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VENDETTA! 


THE  STORY   OF  ONE   FORGOTTEN 


BY 

MARIE  CORELLI 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THB  SOUL  OF    LILITH,"     "  A    ROMANCE    OP    TWO    WORU»," 

"WORMWOOD,**  '  THBLMA,"  Brc. 


NEW  YORK 

NEW  YORK  PUBLISHING  00. 
26  CITY  HALL  PLACE 


HENRY  MORSc.  ^  ..:    . 


PREFACE. 


those  who  read  the  following  pages  should  deem  this 
orory  at  all  improbable,  it  is  perhaps  necessary  to  say  that  its 
chief  incidents  are  founded  on  an  actual  occurrence  which  took 
place  in  Naples  during  the  last  scathing  visitation  of  the 
cholera  in  1884.  We  know  well  enough,  by  the  chronicle  of 
daily  journalism,  that  the  infidelity  of  wives  is,  most  unhap- 
pily, becoming  common — far  too  common  for  the  peace  and 
good  repute  of  society.  Not  so  common  is  an  outraged  hus- 
band's vengeance — not  often  dare  he  take  the  law  into  his  own 
hands — for  in  Englana,  at  least,  such  boldness  on  his  part 
would  doubtless  be  deemed  a  worse  crime  than  that  by  which 
he  personally  is  doomed  to  suffer.  But  in  Italy  things  are  on 
a  different  footing — the  verbosity  and  red-tape  of  the  law,  and 
the  hesitating  verdict  of  special  juries,  are  not  there  considered 
sufficiently  efficacious  to  soothe  a  man's  damaged  honor  and 
ruined  name.  And  thus — whetner  right  or  wrong — it  often 
happens  that  strange  and  awful  deeds  are  perpetrated — deeds 
of  which  the  world  in  general  hears  notning,  and  which,  when 
brought  to  light  at  last,  are  received  with  surprise  and  in- 
credulity. Yet  the  romances  planned  by  the  brain  of  the 
novelist  or  dramatist  are  poor  in  comparison  witn  the  romances 
of  real  life — life  wrongly  termed  commonplace,  out  which,  in 
fact,  teems  with  tragedies  as  great  and  dark  and  soul-torturing 
as  any  devised  by  Sophocles  or  Shakespeare.  Nothing  is  more 
strange  than  truth — nothing,  at  times,  more  terrible  r 

MARIE 

August,  1886. 


314911 


UNIV.  or 


VENDETTA! 


CHAPTER  I. 

I,  WHO  write  this,  am  a  dead  man.  Dez^d  legally — dead 
by  absolute  proofs — dead  and  buried  !  Ask  for  me  in  my  na- 
tive city  and  they  will  tell  you  I  was  one  of  the  victims  of  the 
cholera  that  ravaged  Naples  in  1884,  and  that  my  mortal 
remains  lie  moldering  in  the  funeral  vault  of  my  ancestors. 
Yet — I  live !  I  feel  the  warm  blood  coursing  through  my 
veins — the  blood  of  thirty  summers — the  prime  of  early  man- 
hood invigorates  me,  and  makes  these  eyes  of  mine  keen  and 
bright — these  muscles  strong  as  iron — this  hand  powerful  of 
grip — this  well-knit  form  erec*"  and  proud  of  bearing.  Yc? ! 
— I  am  alive,  though  declared  to  be  dead ;  alive  in  the  full- 
ness of  manly  force — and  even  sorrow  has  left  few  distin- 
guishing marks  upon  me,  save  one.  My  hair,  once  ebony 
black,  is  white  as  a  wreath  of  Alpine  snow,  though  its  cluster 
ing  curls  are  thick  as  ever. 

"  A  constitutional  inheritance  ?  "  a?ks  one  physician,  observ 
ing  my  frosted  ]ocks. 

"  A  sudden  shock  ?  "  suggests  another. 

"Exposure  to  intense  heat?  "  hints  a  third. 

I  answer  none  of  them.  I  did  so  once.  I  told  my  story  tc 
a  man  I  met  by  chance — one  renowned  for  medical  skill  and 
kindliness.  He  heard  me  to  the  end  in  evident  incredulity 
and  alarm,  and  hinted  at  the  possibility  of  madness.  Since 
then  I  have  never  spoken. 

But  now  I  write.  I  am  far  from  all  persecution — I  can  set 
down  the  truth  fearlessly.  I  can  dip  the  pen  in  my  own  blood 
if  I  choose,  and  none  shall  gainsay  me  !  For  the  gre^R  silence 
of  a  vast  South  American  forest  encompasses  me — the  grand 
and  stately  silence  of  a  virginal  nature,  almost  unbroken  by 
the  ruthless  step  of  man's  civilization — a  haven  of  perfect 


6  VEtfbETTA  I 

calm,  delicately  disturbed  by  the  fluttering  wings  and  soft 
voices  of  birds,  and  the  gentle  or  stormy  murmur  of  the  free- 
born  winds  of  heaven.  Within  this  charmed  circle  of  rest  I 
dwell — here  I  lift  up  my  overburdened  heart  like  a  brimming 
chalice,  and  empty  it  on  the  ground,  to  the  last  drop  of  gall 
contained  therein.  The  world  shall  know  my  history. 

Dead,  and  yet  living !  How  can  that  be  ?  — you  ask.  Ah,  my 
friends  !  If  you  seek  to  be  rid  of  your  dead  relations  for  a  cer- 
tainty, you  should  have  their  bodies  cremated.  Otherwise 
there  is  no  knowing  what  may  happen !  Cremation  is  the  best 
*vay — the  only  way.  It  is  clean,  and  safe.  Why  should  there 
be  any  prejudice  against  it  ?  Surely  it  is  better  to  give  the 
remains  of  what  we  loved  (or  pretended  to  love)  to  cleansing 
fire  and  pure  air  than  to  lay  them  in  a  cold  vault  of  stone,  or 
down,  down  in  the  wet  and  clinging  earth.  For  loathly  things 
are  hidden  deep  in  the  mold — things,  foul  and  all  unname- 
able — lon^  worms — slimy  creatures  with  blind  eyes  and  use- 
less wings — aoortionsand  deformities  of  the  insect  tribe  born 
of  poisonous  vapor — creatures  the  very  sight  of  which  would 
drive  you,  oh,  delicate  woman,  into  a  fit  of  hysteria,  and  would 
provoke  even  you,  oh,  strong  man,  to  a  shudder  of  repulsion  ! 
But  there  is  a  worse  thing  than  these  merely  physical  horrors 
which  come  of  so-called  Christian  burial — that  is,  the  terrible 
uncertainty.  What,  if  after  we  have  lowered  the  narrow 
strong  box  containing  our  dear  deceased  relation  into  its  vault 
or  hollow  in  the  ground — what,  if  after  we  have  worn  a  seemly 
garb  of  woe,  and  tortured  our  faces  into  the  fitting  expression 
of  gentle  and  patient  melancholy — what,  I  say,  if  after  all  the 
reasonable  precautions  taken  to  insure  safety,  they  should 
actually  prove  insufficient?  What — if  the  prison  to  which  we 
have  consigned  the  deeply  regretted  one  should  not  have  such 
close  doors  as  we  fondly  imagined  ?  What,  if  the  stout  coffin 
should  be  wrenched  apart  by  fierce  and  frenzied  fingers — 
what,  if  our  late  dear  friend  should  not  be  dead,  but  should, 
like  Lazarus  of  old,  come  forth  to  challenge  our  affection 
anew  ?  Should  we  not  grieve  sorely  that  we  had  failed  to 
avail  ourselves  of  the  secure  and  classical  method  of  crema- 
tion ?  Especially  if  we  had  benefited  by  worldly  goods  or 
money  left  to  us  by  the  so  deservedly  lamented  !  For  we  are 
self-deceiving  hypocrites — few  of  us  are  really  sorry  for  the 
dead — few  of  us  remember  them  with  any  real  tenderness  or 
affection.  And  yet  God  knows  !  they  may  need  more  pity 
than  we  dream  of ! 

£ut  let  me  to  my  task     I,  Fabio  Romani,  lately  deceased, 


VENDETT'A!  7 

ftm  about  to  chronicle  the  events  of  one  short  year — a  year  in 
which  was  compressed  the  agony  of  a  long  and  tortured  life- 
time !  One  little  year ! — one  sharp  thrust  from  the  dagger  of 
Time  !  It  pierced  my  heart — the  wound  still  gapes  and 
bleeds,  and  every  drop  of  blood  is  tainted  as  it  falls ! 

One  suffering,  common  to  many,  I  have  never  known — that 
is — poverty.  I  was  born  rich.  When  my  father,  Count 
Filippo  Romani,  died,  leaving  me,  then  a  lad  of  seventeen, 
sole  heir  to  his  enormous  possessions — sole  head  of  his  power- 
ful house — there  were  many  candid  friends  who,  with  their 
usual  kindness,  prophesied  the  worst  things  of  my  future. 
Nay,  there  were  even  some  who  looked  forward  to  my  physi- 
cal and  mental  destruction  with  a  certain  degree  of  malignant 
expectation — and  they  were  estimable  persons  too.  They 
were  respectably  connected — their  words  carried  weight — • 
and  for  a  time  I  was  an  object  of  their  maliciously  pious 
fears.  I  was  destined,  according  to  their  calculations,  to  be 
a  gambler,  a  spendthrift,  a  drunkard,  an  incurable  rouk  of  the 
most  abandoned  character.  Yet,  strange  to  say,  I  became 
none  of  these  things.  Though  a  Neapolitan,  with  all  the 
fiery  passions  and  hot  blood  of  my  race,  I  had  an  innate 
scorn  for  the  contemptible  vices  and  low  desires  of  the  un- 
thinking vulgar.  Gambling  seemed  to  me  a  delirious  folly — 
drink,  a  destroyer  of  health  and  reason-V-and  licentious  ex- 
travagance an  outrage  on  the  poor.  I  chose  my  own  way  of 
life — a  middle  course  between  simplicity  and  luxury — a  judi- 
cious mingling  of  home-like  peace  with  the  gayety  of  sympa- 
thetic social  intercourse — an  even  tenor  of  intelligent  exist- 
ence which  neither  exhausted  the  mind  nor  injured  the  body. 

I  dwelt  in  my  father's  villa — a  miniature  palace  of  white 
marble,  situated  on  a  wooded  height  overlooking  the  Bay  of 
Naples.  My  pleasure-grounds  were  fringed  with  fragrant 
groves  of  orange  and  myrtle,  where  hundreds  of  full-voiced 
nightingales  warbled  their  love-melodies  to  the  golden  moon. 
Sparkling  fountains  rose  and  fell  in  huge  stone  basins  carved 
with  many  a  quaint  design,  and  their  cool  murmurous  splash 
refreshed  the  burning  silence  of  the  hottest  summer  air.  In 
this  retreat  I  lived  at  peace  for  some  happy  years,  surrounded 
by  books  and  pictures,  and  visited  frequently  by  friends- 
young  men  whose  tastes  were  more  or  less  like  my  own,  and 
who  were  capable  of  equally  appreciating  the  merits  of  an 
antique  volume,  or  the  flavor  of  a  rare  vintage. 

Of  women  I  saw  little  or  nothing.  Truth  to  tell,  I  instinct- 
ively avoided  them,  Parents  with  marriageable  daughters 


*  VENDETTA! 

invited  me  frequently  to  their  houses,  but  these  invitations  I 
generally  refused.  My  best  books  warned  me  against  fem- 
inine society — and  I  believed  and  accepted  the  warning. 
This  tendency  of  mine  exposed  me  to  the  ridicule  of  those 
among  my  companions  who  were  amorously  inclined,  but 
their  gay  jests  at  what  they  termed  my  "  weakness  "  never 
affected  me.  I  trusted  in  friendship  rather  than  love,  and  I 
had  a  friend — one  for  whom  at  that  time  I  would  gladly  have 
laid  down  my  life — one  who  inspired  me  with  the  most  pro- 
found attachment.  He,  Guido  Ferrari,  also  joined  occasion- 
ally with  others  in  the  good-natured  mockery  I  brought  down 
upon  myself  by  my  shrinking  dislike  of  women. 

"  Fie  on  thee,  Fabio  !  "  he  would  cry.  "  Thou  wilt  not 
taste  life  till  thou  hast  sipped  the  nectar  from  a  pair  of  rose- 
red  lips — thou  shalt  not  guess  the  riddle  of  the  stars  till  thou 
hast  gazed  deep  down  into  the  fathomless  glory  of  a  maiden's 
eyes — thou  canst  not  know  delight  till  thou  hast  clasped  eager 
arms  round  a  coy  waist  and  heard  the  beating  of  a  passionate 
heart  against  thine  own !  A  truce  to  thy  musty  volumes ! 
Believe  it,  those  ancient  and  sorrowful  philosophers  had  no 
manhood  in  them — their  blood  was  water — and  their  slanders 
against  women  were  but  the  pettish  utterances  of  their  own 
deserved  disappointments.  Those  who  miss  the  chief  prize 
of  life  would  fain  persuade  others  that  it  is  not  worth  having. 
What,  man  !  Thou,  with  a  ready  wit,  a  glancing  eye,  a  gay 
smile,  a  supple  form,  thou  wilt  not  enter  the  lists  of  love  ? 
What  says  Voltaire  of  the  blind  god  ? 

"'  Qui  que  tu  sois  voil&  ton  maitre, 
II  fut — il  est — ou  il  doit  etre  1 '  " 

When  my  friend  spoke  thus  I  smiled,  but  answered  nothing. 
His  arguments  failed  to  convince  me.  Yet  I  loved  to  hear 
him  talk — his  voice  was  mellow  as  the  note  of  a  thrush,  and 
his  eyes  had  an  eloquence  greater  than  all  speech.  I  loved 
him — God  knows  !  unselfishly,  sincerely — with  that  rare  ten- 
derness sometimes  felt  by  schoolboys  for  one  another,  but 
seldom  experienced  by  grown  men.  I  was  happy  in  his 
society,  as  he,  indeed,  appeared  to  be  in  mine.  We  passed 
most  of  our  time  together,  he,  like  myself,  having  been  be- 
reaved of  his  parents  in  early  youth,  and  therefore  left  to 
shape  out  his  own  course  of  life  as  suited  his  particular  fancy. 
He  chose  art  as  a  profession,  and,  though  a  fairly  successful 
painter,  was  as  poor  as  I  was  rich.  I  remedied  this  neglect 


VENDETTA!  9 

ef  fortune  for  him  in  various  ways  with  due  forethought  and 
delicacy — and  gave  him  as  many  commissions  as  I  possibly 
could  without  rousing  his  suspicion  or  wounding  his  pride. 
For  he  possessed  a  strong  attraction  for  me — we  had  much 
the  same  tastes,  we  shared  the  same  sympathies,  in  short,  I 
desired  nothing  better  than  his  confidence  and  companion- 
ship. 

In  this  world  no  one,  however  harmless,  is  allowed  to  con- 
tinue happy.  Fate — or  caprice — cannot  endure  to  see  us 
monotonously  at  rest.  Something  perfectly  trivial — a  look,  a 
word,  a  touch,  and  lo  !  a  long  chain  of  old  associations  is 
broken  asunder,  and  the  peace  we  deemed  so  deep  and  lasting 
in  finally  interrupted.  This  change  came  to  me,  as  surely  as 
it  comes  to  all.  One  day — how  well  I  remember  it ! — one 
sultry  evening  toward  the  end  of  May,  1881,  I  was  in  Naples. 
I  had  passed  the  afternoon  in  my  yacht,  idly  and  slowly  sail- 
ing over  the  bay,  availing  myself  of  what  little  wind  there  was. 
Guide's  absence  (he  had  gone  to  Rome  on  a  visit  of  some 
weeks'  duration)  rendered  me  somewhat  of  a  solitary,  and  as 
my  light  craft  ran  into  harbor,  I  found  myself  in  a  pensive, 
half-uncertain  mood,  which  brought  with  it  its  own  depres- 
sion. The  fe'v  sailors  who  manned  my  vessel  dispersed  right 
and  left  as  soon  as  they  were  landedV— each  to  his  own  favo- 
rite haunts  of  pleasure  or  dissipation^vbut  I  was  in  no  humor 
to  be  easily  amused.  Though  I  had  plenty  of  acquaintance 
in  the  city,  I  cared  little  for  such  entertainment  as  they  could 
offer  me.  As  I  strolled  along  through  one  of  the  principal 
streets,  considering  whether  or  not  I  should  return  on  foot  to 
my  own  dwelling  on  the  heights,  I  heard  a  sound  of  singing, 
and  perceived  in  the  distance  a  glimmer  of  white  robes.  It  was 
the  Month  of  Mary,  and  I  at  once  concluded  that  this  must  be 
an  approaching  Procession  of  the  Virgin.  Half  in  idleness, 
half  in  curiosity,  I  stood  still  and  waited.  The  singing  voices 
came  nearer  and  nearer — I  saw  the  priests,  the  acolytes,  the 
swinging  gold  censers  heavy  with  fragrance,  the  flaring  can- 
dles, the  snowy  veils  of  children  and  girls — and  then  all  sud- 
denly the  picturesque  beauty  of  the  scene  danced  before  my 
eyes  in  a  whirling  blur  of  brilliancy  and  color  from  which 
looked  forth — one  face  !  One  face  beaming  out  like  a  star 
from  a  cloud  of  amber  tresses — one  face  of  rose-tinted,  child- 
like loveliness — a  loveliness  absolutely  perfect,  lighted  up  by 
two  luminous  eyes,  large  and  black  as  night — one  face  in 
which  the  small,  curved  mouth  smiled  half  provokingly,  half 
sweetly !  I  gazed  and  gazed  again,  dazzled  and  excited, 


10  VENDETTA! 

beauty  makes  such  fools  of  us  all !  This  was  a  woman — one 
of  the  sex  I  mistrusted  and  avoided — a  woman  in  the  earliest 
spring  of  her  youth,  a  girl  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  at  the  utmost. 
Her  veil  had  been  thrown  back  by  accident  or  design,  and 
"or  one  brief  moment  I  drank  in  that  soul-tempting  glance; 
that  witch-like  smile !  The  procession  passed — the  vision 
faded — but  in  that  breath  of  time  one  epoch  of  my  life  had 

closed  forever,  and  another  had  begun  ! 

******* 

Of  course  I  married  her.  We  Neapolitans  lose  no  time  in 
such  matters.  We  are  not  prudent.  Unlike  the  calm  blood 
of  Englishmen,  ours  rushes  swiftly  through  our  veins — it  is 
warm  as  wine  and  sunlight,  and  needs  no  fictitious  stimulant. 
We  love,  we  desire,  we  possess  ;  and  then  ?  We  tire,  you 
say  ?  These  southern  races  are  so  fickle  !  All  wrong — we 
are  less  tired  than  you  deem.  And  do  not  Englishmen  tire  ? 
Have  they  no  secret  ennui  at  times  when  sitting  in  the  chim- 
ney nook  of  "  home,  sweet  home,"  witt  their  fat  wives  and 
ever-spreading  families  ?  Truly,  yes !  But  they  are  too 
cautious  to  say  so. 

I  need  not  relate  the  story  of  my  courtship — it  was  brief 
and  sweet  as  a  song  sung  perfectly.  There  were  no  obstacles. 
The  girl  I  sought  was  the  only  daughter  of  a  ruined  Floren- 
tine noble  of  dissolute  character,  who  gained  a  bare  subsist- 
ence by  frequenting  the  gaming-tables.  His  child  had  been 
brought  up  in  a  convent  renowned  for  strict  discipline — she 
knew  nothing  of  the  world.  She  was,  he  assured  me,  with 
maudlin  tears  in  kis  eyes,  "  as  innocent  as  a  flower  on  the 
altar  of  the  Madonna."  I  believed  him — for  what  could  this 
lovely,  youthful,  low- voiced  maiden  know  of  even  the  shadow 
of  evil  ?  I  was  eager  to  gather  so  fair  a  lily  for  my  own 
proud  wearing — and  her  father  gladly  gave  her  to  me,  no 
doubt  inwardly  congratulating  himself  on  the  wealthy  match 
that  had  fallen  to  the  lot  of  his  dowerless  daughter. 

We  were  married  at  the  end  of  June,  and  Guido  Ferrari 
graced  our  bridal  with  his  handsome  and  gallant  presence. 

"  By  the  body  of  Bacchus  !  "  he  exclaimed  to  me  when  the 
nuptial  ceremony  was  over,  "  thou  hast  profited  by  my  teach- 
ing, Fabio  !  A  quiet  rogue  is  often  most  cunning  !  Thou 
hast  rifled  the  casket  of  Venus,  and  stolen  her  fairest  jewel— 
thou  hast  secured  the  loveliest  maiden  in  the  two  Sicilies  !  " 

I  pressed  his  hand,  and  a  touch  of  remorse  stole  over  me, 
for  he  was  no  longer  first  in  my  affection.  Almost  I  regret- 
ted it— yes,  on  my  very  wedding-mom  I  looked  back  to  th« 


VENDETTA !  IS 

old  days — old  now  though  so  recent — and  sighed  to  think 
they  were  ended.  I  glanced  at  Nina,  my  wife.  It  was 
enough  !  Her  beauty  dazzled  and  overcame  me.  The  melt- 
ing languor  of  her  large  limpid  eyes  stole  into  my  veins — I 
forgot  all  but  her.  I  was  in  that  high  delirium  of  passion  i 
which  love,  and  love  only,  seems  the  keynote  of  creation.  I 
touched  the  topmost  peak  of  the  height  of  joy — the  days  were 
feasts  of  fairy-land,  the  nights  dreams  of  rapture  !  No  ;  I 
never  tired  !  My  wife's  beauty  never  palled  upon  me  ;  she 
grew  fairer  with  each  day  of  possession.  I  never  saw  her 
otherwise  than  attractive,  and  within  a  few  months  she  had 
probed  all  the  depths  of  my  nature.  She  discovered  how 
certain  sweet  looks  of  hers  could  draw  me  to  her  side,  a  will- 
ing and  devoted  slave  ;  she  measured  my  weakness  with  her 
own  power  ;  she  knew — what  did  she  not  know  ?  I  torture 
myself  with  these  foolish  memories.  All  men  past  the  age  of 
twenty  have  learned  somewhat  of  the  tricks  of  women — the 
pretty  playful  nothings  that  weaken  the  will  and  sap  the  force 
of  the  strongest  hero.  She  loved  me  ?  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose 
so !  Looking  back  on  those  days,  I  can  frankly  say  I  be- 
lieve she  loved  me — as  nine  hundred  wives  out  of  a  thousand 
love  their  husbands,  namely — for  what  they  can  get.  And  I 
grudged  her  nothing.  If  I  chose  to  idolize  her,  and  raise  her 
to  the  stature  of  an  angel  when  she  was  but  on  the  low  level 
of  mere  womanhood,  that  was  my  folly,  not  her  fault. 

We  kept  open  house.  Our  villa  was  a  place  of  rendez- 
vous for  the  leading  members  of  the  best  society  in  and  around 
Naples.  My  wife  was  universally  admired ;  her  lovely  face 
and  graceful  manners  were  themes  of  conversation  through- 
out the  whole  neighborhood.  Guido  Ferrari,  my  friend,  was 
one  of  those  who  were  loudest  in  her  praise,  and  the  chival- 
rous homage  he  displayed  toward  her  doubly  endeared  him 
to  me.  I  trusted  him  as  a  brother ;  he  came  and  went  as 
pleased  him  ;  he  brought  Nina  gifts  of  flowers  and  fanciful 
trifles  adapted  to  her  taste,  and  treated  her  with  fraternal  and 
delicate  kindness.  I  deemed  my  happiness  perfect — with 
love,  wealth,  and  friendship,  what  more  could  a  man  desire  ? 
•*  Yet  another  drop  of  honey  was  added  to  my  cup  of  sweet- 
ness. On  the  first  morning  of  May,  1882,  our  child  was  born 
— a  girl-babe,  fair  as  one  of  the  white  anemones  which  at 
that  season  grew  thickly  in  the  woods  surrounding  out 
home.  They  brought  the  little  one  to  me  in  the  shaded 
veranda  where  I  sat  at  breakfast  with  Guido — a  tiny,  almost 
shapeless  bundle,  wrapped  in  soft  cashmere  and  old  lace, 


19  VEND  ETTA  1 

I  took  the  fragile  thing  in  my  arms  with  a  tender  reverence ; 
it  opened  its  eyes  ;  they  were  large  and  dark  like  Nina's,  and 
the  light  of  a  recent  heaven  seemed  still  to  linger  in  their 
pure  dspflfis.  I  kissed  the  little  face  ;  Guido  did  the  same  ; 
and  those  clear,  quiet  eyes  regarded  us  both  with  a  strange 
half-inquiring  solemnity.  A  bird  perched  on  a  bough  of  jas- 
mine broke  into  a  low,  sweet  song,  the  soft  wind  blew  and 
scattered  the  petals  of  a  white  rose  at  our  feet.  I  gave  the 
infant  back  to  the  nurse,  who  waited  to  receive  it,  and  said, 
with  a  smile,  "  Tell  my  wife  we  have  welcomed  her  May- 
blossom." 

Guido  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  as  the  servant  retired  ; 
his  face  was  unusually  pale. 

"  Thou  art  a  good  fellow,  Fabio  !  "  he  said,  abruptly. 

"  Indeed  !  How  so  ?  "  I  asked,  half  laughingly  ;  "  I  am 
no  better  than  other  men." 

"  You  are  less  suspicious  than  the  majority,"  he  returned, 
turning  away  from  me  and  playing  idly  with  a  spray  of  clem- 
atis that  trailed  on  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  veranda. 

I  glanced  at  him  in  surprise.  "  What  do  you  mean,  amico  ? 
Have  I  reason  to  suspect  any  one  ? " 

He  laughed  and  resumed  his  seat  at  the  breakfast-table. 

"  Why,  no  !  "  he  answered,  with  a  frank  look.  "  But  in 
Naples  the  air  is  pregnant  with  suspicion — jealousy's  dagger 
is  ever  ready  to  strike,  justly  or  unjustly — the  very  children 
are  learned  in  the  ways  of  vice.  Penitents  confess  to  priests 
who.  are  worse  than  penitents,  and  by  Heaven  !  in  such  a 
tate  of  society,  where  conjugal  fidelity  is  a  farce  " — he  paused 

moment,  and  then  went  on — "  is  it  not   wonderful. to  know 
a  man  like  you,  Fabio  ?     A  man  happy  in  home  affections, 
Tjrithout  a  cloud  on  the  sky  of  his  confidence  ?  " 
J  "  I  have  no  cause  for  distrust,"  I  said.     "  Nina  is  as  inno- 
cent as  the  little  child  of  whom  she  is  to-day  the  mother." 

"  True  !  "  exclaimed  Ferrari.  "  Perfectly  true  !  "  and  he 
looked  me  full  in  the  eyes,  with  a  smile.  "  White  as  the  vir- 
gin snow  on  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc — purer  than  the  flaw- 
less diamond — and  unapproachable  as  the  furthest  star  1  Is 
it  not  so  ?  " 

I  assented  with  a  certain  gravity ;  something  in  his  man- 
ner puzzled  me.  Our  conversation  soon  turned  on  different 
topics,  and  I  thought  no  more  of  the  matter.  But  a  time 
came — and  that  speedily — when  I  had  stern  reasgn  to  remem- 
ber every  word  he  had  uttered. 


VEND  ETTA  I 


CHAPTER  II. 

EVERY  one  knows  what  kind  of  summer  we  had  in  Naples 
In  1884.  The  newspapers  of  all  lands  teemed  with  the  story 
of  its  horrors.  The  cholera  walked  abroad  like  a  destroying  - 
demon ;  under  its  withering  touch  scores  of  people,  young 
and  old,  dropped  down  in  the  streets  to  die.  The  fell  dis- 
ease, born  of  dirt  and  criminal  neglect  of  sanitary  pre- 
cautions, gained  on  the  city  with  awful  rapidity,  and  worse 
even  than  the  plague  was  the  unreasoning  but  universal  panic. 
The  never-to-be-forgotten  heroism  of  King  Humbert  had  its 
effect  on  the  more  educated  classes,  but  among  the  low  Nea- 
politan populace,  abject  fear,  vulgar  superstition,  and  utter 
selfishness  reigned  supreme.  One  case  may  serve  as  an  ex- 
ample of  many  others.  A  fisherman,  well  known  in  the  place, 
a  handsome  and  popular  young  fellow,  was  seized,  while 
working  in  his  boat,  with  the  first  symptoms  of  cholera.  He 
was  carried  to  his  mother's  house.  The  old  woman,  a  vil- 
lainous-looking hag,  watched  the  little  procession  as  it  ap- 
proached her  dwelling,  and  taking  in  the  situation  at  once, 
she  shut  and  barricaded  her  door. 

"  Santissima  Madonna !  "  she  yelled,  shrilly,  through  a 
half  opened  window.  "  Leave  him  in  the  street,  the  aban- 
doned, miserable  one  !  The  ungrateful  pig !  He  would 
bring  tiie  plague  to  his  own  hard-working,  honest  mother  ! 
Holy  Joseph  !  who  would  have  children  ?  Leave  him  in  the 
street,  I  tell  you  !  " 

It  was  useless  to  expostulate  with  this  feminine  scarecrow; 
her  son  was,  happily  for  himself,  unconscious,  and  after  some 
more  wrangling  he  was  laid  down  on  her  doorstep,  where  he 
shortly  afterward  expired,  his  body  being  afterward  carted 
away  like  so  much  rubbish  by  the  beccamorti. 

The  heat  in  the  city  was  intense.  The  sky  was  a  burning 
dome  of  brilliancy,  the  bay  was  still  as  a  glittering  sheet  of 
glass.  A  thin  column  of  smoke  issuing  from  the  crater  of 
Vesuvius  increased  the  impression  of  an  all-pervading,  though 
imperceptible  ring  of  fire,  that  seemed  to  surround  the  place. 
No  birds  sung  save  in  the  late  evening,  when  the  nightingales 
in  my  gardens  broke  out  in  a  bubbling  torrent  of  melody, 
half  joyous,  half  melancholy.  Up  on  that  wooded  height 
where  I  dwelt  it  was  comparatively  cool.  I  took  all  precau- 
tions necessary  to  prevent  the  contagion  from  attacking  our 


14-  VENDETTA  t 

household ;  in  fact,  I  would  have  left  the  neighborhood 
altogether,  had  I  not  known  that  hasty  flight  from  an  infected 
district  often  carries  with  it  the  possibility  of  closer  contact 
with  the  disease.  My  wife,  besides,  was  not  nervous — I 
think  very  beautiful  women  seldom  are.  Their  superb 
vanity  is  an  excellent  shield  to  repel  pestilence  ;  it  does  away 
with  the  principal  element  of  danger — fear.  As  for  our 
Stella,  a  toddling  mite  of  two  years  old,  she  was  a  healthy 
child,  for  whom  neither  her  mother  nor  myself  entertained 
the  least  anxiety. 

Guido  Ferrari  came  and  stayed  with  us,  and  while  the 
cholera,  like  a  sharp  scythe  put  into  a  field  of  ripe  corn, 
mowed  down  the  dirt-loving  Neapolitans  by  hundreds,  we 
three,  with  a  small  retinue  of  servants,  none  of  whom  were 
ever  permitted  to  visit  the  city,  lived  on  farinaceous  food 
and  distilled  water,  bathed  regularly,  rose  and  retired  early, 
and  enjoyed  the  most  perfect  health. 

Among  her  many  other  attractions  my  wife  was  gifted  with 
a  beautiful  and  well-trained  voice.  She  sung  with  exquisite 
expression,  and  many  an  evening  when  Guido  and  myself  sat 
smoking  in  the  garden,  after  little  Stella  had  gone  to  bed, 
Nina  would  ravish  our  ears  with  the  music  of  her  nightingale 
notes,  singing  song  after  song,  quaint  storneUi  and  ritornelli 
— songs  of  the  people,  full  of  wild  and  passionate  beauty.  In 
these  Guido  would  often  join  her,  his  full  barytone  chiming 
in  with  her  delicate  and  clear  soprano  as  deliciously  as  the 
fall  of  a  fountain  with  the  trill  of  a  bird.  I  can  hear  those 
two  voices  now ;  their  united  melody  still  rings  mockingly 
in  my  ears ;  the  heavy  perfume  of  orange-blossom,  mingled 
with  myrtle,  floats  toward  me  on  the  air ;  the  yellow  moon 
burns  round  and  full  in  the  dense  blue  sky,  like  the  King  of 
Thule's  goblet  of  gold  flung  into  a  deep  sea,  and  again  I 
behold  those  two  heads  leaning  together,  the  one  fair,  the 
other  dark ;  my  wife,  my  friend — those  two  whose  lives  were 
a  million  times  dearer  to  me  than  my  own.  Ah  !  they  were 
happy  days — days  of  self-delusion  always  are.  We  are  never 
grateful  enough  to  the  candid  persons  who  wake  us  from  our 
dreams — yet  such  are  in  truth  our  best  friends,  could  we  but 
realize  it. 

August  was  the  most  terrible  of  all  the  summer  months  in 
Naples.  The  cholera  increased  with  frightful  steadiness, 
and  the  people  seemed  to  be  literally  mad  with  terror. 
Some  of  them,  seized  with  a  wild  spirit  of  defiance,  plunged 
into  orgies  of  vice  and  intemperance  with  a  reckless  disr* 


VENDETTA  I  15 

gard  of  consequences.  One  of  these  frantic  revels  took 
place  at  a  well-known  cafe*.  Eight  young  men,  accompanied 
by  eight  girls  of  remarkable  beauty,  arrived,  and  ordered  a 
private  room,  where  they  were  served  with  a  sumptuous  re- 
past. At  its  close  one  of  the  party  raised  his  glass  and  pro- 
posed, "  Success  to  the  cholera !  "  The  toast  was  received 
with  riotous  shouts  of  applause,  and  all  drank  it  with  delir- 
ious laughter.  That  very  night  every  one  of  the  revelers 
died  in  horrible  agony ;  their  bodies,  as  usual,  were  thrust 
into  flimsy  coffins  and  buried  one  on  top  of  another  in  a 
hole  hastily  dug  for  the  purpose.  Dismal  stories  like  these 
reached  us  every  day,  but  we  were  not  morbidly  impressed 
by  them.  Stella  was  a  living  charm  against  pestilence  ;  her 
innocent  playfulness  and  prattle  kept  us  amused  and  em- 
ployed, and  surrounded  us  with  an  atmosphere  that  was 
physically  and  mentally  wholesome. 

One  morning — one  of  the  very  hottest  mornings  of  that 
scorching  month — I  woke  at  an  earlier  hour  than  usual.  A 
suggestion  of  possible  coolness  in  the  air  tempted  me  to  rise 
and  stroll  through  the  garden.  My  wife  slept  soundly  at  my 
side.  I  dressed  softly,  without  disturbing  her.  As  I  was 
about  to  leave  the  room  some  instinct  made  me  turn  back  to 
look  at  her  once  more.  How  lovely  she  was  !  she  smiled  in 
her  sleep  !  My  heart  beat  as  I  gazed — she  had  been  mine 
for  three  years — mine  only ! — and  my  passionate  admiration 
and  love  of  her  had  increased  in  proportion  to  that  length  of 
time.  I  raised  one  of  the  scattered  golden  locks  that  lay 
shining  like  a  sunbeam  on  the  pillow,  and  kissed  it  tenderly. 
Then — all  unconscious  of  my  fate — I  left  her. 

A  faint  breeze  greeted  me  as  I  sauntered  slowly  along  the 
garden  walks — a  breath  of  wind  scarce  strong  enough  to 
flutter  the  leaves,  yet  it  had  a  salt  savor  in  it  that  was  re- 
freshing after  the  tropical  heat  of  the  past  night.  I  was  at 
that  time  absorbed  in  the  study  of  Plato,  and  as  I  walked, 
my  mind  occupied  itself  with  many  high  problems  and  deep 
questions  suggested  by  that  great  teacher.  Lost  in  a  train 
of  profound  yet  pleasant  thought,  I  strayed  on  further  than 
I  intended,  and  found  myself  at  last  in  a  by-path,  long 
disused  by  our  household — a  winding  footway  leading  down- 
ward in  the  direction  of  the  harbor.  It  was  shady  and  cool, 
and  I  followed  the  road  almost  unconsciously,  till  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  masts  and  white  sails  gleaming  through  the 
leafage  of  the  overarching  trees.  I  was  then  about  to  re- 
trace my  steps,  when  I  was  startled  by  a  sudden  sound.  It 


16  VENDETTA  i 

was  a  low  moan  of  intense  pain — a  smothered  cry  that 
seemed  to  be  wrung  from  some  animal  in  torture.  I  turned 
in  the  direction  whence  it  came,  and  saw,  lying  face  down- 
ward on  th~  grass,  a  boy — a  little  fruit-seller  of  eleven  or 
twelve  years  of  age.  His  basket  of  wares  stood  beside  him, 
a  tempting  pile  of  peaches,  grapes,  pomegranates,  and  melons 
— lovely  but  dangerous  eating  in  cholera  times.  I  touched 
the  lad  on  the  shoulder." 

"  What  ails  you  ? "  I  asked.  He  twisted  himself  convul- 
sively and  turned  his  face  toward  me — a  beautiful  face, 
though  livid  with  anguish. 

"The  plague,  signer!"  he  moaned  ;  "the  plague  !  Keep 
away  from  me,  for  the  love  of  God  !  I  am  dying  ! " 

I  hesitated.  For  myself  I  had  no  fear.  But  my  wife — 
my  child — for  their  sakes  it  was  necessary  to  be  prudent. 
Yet  I  could  not  leave  this  poor  boy  unassisted.  I  resolved 
to  go  to  the  harbor  in  search  of  medical  aid.  With  this  idea 
in  my  mind  I  spoke  cheerfully. 

"  Courage,  my  boy,"  I  said  ;  "  do  not  lose  heart !  All  ill- 
ness is  not  the  plague.  Rest  here  till  I  return  ;  I  am  going 
to  fetch  a  doctor." 

The  little  fellow  looked  at  me  with  wondering,  pathetic 
eyes,  and  tried  to  smile.  He  pointed  to  his  throat,  and  made 
an  effort  to  speak,  but  vainly.  Then  he  crouched  down  in 
the  grass  and  writhed  in  torture  like  a  hunted  animal  wounded 
to  the  death.  I  left  him  and  walked  on  rapidly ;  reaching 
the  harbor,  where  the  heat  was  sulphurous  and  intense,  I 
found  a  few  scared-looking  men  standing  aimlessly  about, 
to  whom  I  explained  the  boy's  case,  and  appealed  for  assist- 
ance. They  all  hung  back — none  of  them  would  accom- 
pany me,  not  even  for  the  gold  I  offered.  Cursing  their 
cowardice,  I  hurried  on  in  search  of  a  physician,  and  found 
one  at  last,  a  sallow  Frenchman,  who  listened  with  obvious 
reluctance  to  my  account  of  the  condition  in  which  I  had 
left  the  little  fruit-seller,  and  at  the  end  shook  his  head 
decisively,  and  refused  to  move. 

"  He  is  as  good  as  dead,"  he  observed,  with  cold  brevity. 
"  Better  call  at  the  house  of  the  Miserecordia  ;  the  brethren 
will  fetch  his  body." 

"  What  !  "  I  cried  ;  "  you  will  not  try  if  you  can  save  him  ?  " 

The  Frenchman  bowed  with  satirical  suavity. 

"  Monsieur  must  pardon  me  !  My  own  health  would  b$ 
seriously  endangered  by  touching  a  cholera  corpse.  Allon 
me  to  wish  monsieur  the  good-day  1 " 


VENDETTA  I  17 

And  he  disappeared,  shutting  his  door  in  my  face.  I  was 
thoroughly  exasperated,  and  though  the  heat  and  the  fetid 
odor  of  the  sun-baked  streets  made  me  feel  faint  and  sick,  I 
forgot  all  danger  for  myself  as  I  stood  in  the  plague-stricken 
city,  wondering  what  I  should  do  next  to  obtain  succor.  A 
grave,  kind  voice  saluted  my  ear. 

"  You  seek  aid,  my  son  ?  " 

I  looked  up.  A  tall  monk,  whose  cowl  partly  concealed 
his  pale,  but  resolute  features,  stood  at  my  side — one  of 
those  heroes  who,  for  the  love  of  Christ,  came  forth  at  that 
terrible  time  and  faced  the  pestilence  fearlessly,  where  the 
blatant  boasters  of  no-religion  scurried  away  Ifoe  frightened 
hares  from  the  very  scent  of  danger.  I  greeted  him  with  an 
obeisance,  and  explained  my  errand. 

"  I  will  go  at  once,"  he  said,  with  an  accent  of  pity  in  his 
voice.  "  But  I  fear  the  worst.  I  have  remedies  with  me; 
I  may  not  be  too  late." 

"  I  will  accompany  you,"  I  said,  eagerly.  "  One  would 
not  let  a  dog  die  unaided  ;  much  less  this  poor  lad,  who 
seems  friendless." 

The  monk  looked  at  me  attentively  as  we  walked  on  to- 
gether. 

"  You  are  not  residing  in  Naples  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  gave  him  my  name,  which  he  knew  by  repute,  and  de- 
scribed the  position  of  my  villa. 

"  Up  on  that  height  we  enjoy  perfect  health,"  I  added. 
"  I  cannot  understand  the  panic  that  prevails  in  the  city. 
The  plague  is  fostered  by  such  cowardice." 

"  Of  course  !  "  he  answered,  calmly.  "  But  what  will  you  ? 
The  people  here  love  pleasure.  Their  hearts  are  set  solely 
on  this  life.  When  death,  common  to  all,  enters  their  midst, 
they  are  like  babes  scared  by  a  dark  shadow.  Religion 
itself  " — here  he  sighed  deeply — "  has  no  hold  upon  them." 

"  But  you,  my  father,"  I  began,  and  stopped  abruptly,  con- 
scious of  a  sharp  throbbing  pain  in  my  temples. 

"  I,"  he  answered,  gravely,  "am  the  servant  of  Christ.  As 
such,  the  plague  has  no  terrors  for  me.  Unworthy  as  I  am, 
for  my  Master's  sake  I  am  ready — nay,  willing — to  face  all 
deaths." 

He  spoke  firmly,  yet  without  arrogance.  I  looked  at  him 
in  a  certain  admiration,  and  was  about  to  speak,  when  a  curi- 
ous dizziness  overcame  me,  and  I  caught  at  his  arm  to  sav« 
myself  from  falling.  The  street  rocked  like  a  ship  at  sea, 
and  the  skies  whirled  round  me  in  circles  of  blue  fire.  The 
a 


iS  VENDETTA! 

feeling  slowly  passed,  and  I  heard  the  monk's  voice,  as 
though  it  were  a  long  way  off,  asking  me  anxiously  what  was 
the  matter.  I  forced  a  smile. 

"  It  is  the  heat,  I  think,"  I  said,  in  feeble  tones  like  those 
of  a  very  aged  man.  I  am  faint — giddy.  You  had  best 
leave  me  here — see  to  the  boy.  Oh,  my  God !  " 

This  last  exclamation  was  wrung  out  of  me  by  sheer  an- 
guish. My  limbs  refused  to  support  me,  and  a  pang,  cold 
and  bitter  as  though  naked  steel  had  been  thrust  through  my 
body,  caused  me  to  sink  down  upon  the  pavement  in  a  kind 
of  convulsion.  The  tall  and  sinewy  monk,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  dragged  me  up  and  half  carried,  half  led  me  into 
a  kind  of  auberge,  or  restaurant  for  the  poorer  classes.  Here 
he  placed  me  in  a  recumbent  position  on  one  of  the  wooden 
benches,  and  called  up  the  proprietor  of  the  place,  a  man  to 
whom  he  seemed  to  be  well  known.  Though  suffering  acutely 
I  was  conscious,  and  could  hear  and  see  everything  that 
passed. 

"  Attend  to  him  well,  Pietro — it  is  the  rich  Count  Fabio 
Romani.  Thou  wilt  not  lose  by  thy  pains.  I  will  return 
within  an  hour." 

"  The  Count  Romani !  Santissima  Madonna  !  He  has 
caught  the  plague  !  " 

"  Thou  fool !  "  exclaimed  the  monk,  fiercely.  "  How  canst 
thou  tell  ?  A  stroke  of  the  sun  is  not  the  plague,  thou 
coward !  See  to  him,  or  by  St.  Peter  and  the  keys  there 
shall  be  no  place  for  thee  in  heaven  !  " 

The  trembling  innkeeper  looked  terrified  at  this  menace, 
and  submissively  approached  me  with  pillows,  which  he 
placed  under  my  head.  The  monk,  meanwhile,  held  a  glass 
to  my  lips  containing  some  medicinal  mixture,  which  I  swal- 
lowed mechanically. 

"  Rest  here,  my  son,"  he  said,  addressing  me  in  soothing 
tones.  "  These  people  are  good-natured.  I  will  but  hasten 
to  the  boy  for  whom  you  sought  assistance — in  less  than  an 
hour  I  will  be*with  you  again." 

I  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Stay,"  I  murmured,  feebly,  "  let  me  know  the  worst.  Is 
this  the  plague  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not !  "  he  replied,  compassionately.  "  But  what 
if  it  be  ?  You  are  young  and  strong  enough  to  fight  against 
it  without  fear." 

"  I  have  no  fear,"  I  said.  "  But,  father,  promise  me  one 
thing — send  no  word  of  my  illness  to  my  wife — swear  it  1 


V&NDETTA1  x$ 

Even  if  I  am  unconscious — dead — swear  that  I  shall  not  be 
taken  to  the  villa.  Swear  it !  I  cannot  rest  till  I  have  your 
word." 

"  I  swear  it  most  willingly,  my  son,"  he  answered,  solemn- 
ly. "  By  all  I  hold  sacred,  I  will  respect  your  wishes." 

I  was  infinitely  relieved — the  safety  of  those  I  loved  was 
assured — and  I  thanked  him  by  a  mute  gesture.  I  was  too 
weak  to  say  more.  He  disappeared,  and  my  brain  wandered 
into  a  chaos  of  strange  fancies.  Let  me  try  to  revolve  these 
delusions.  I  plainly  see  the  interior  of  the  common  room 
where  I  lie.  There  is  the  timid  innkeeper — he  polishes  his 
glasses  and  bottles,  casting  ever  and  anon  a  scared  glance  in 
my  direction.  Groups  of  men  look  in  at  the  door,  and,  see- 
ing me,  hurry  away.  I  observe  all  this — I  know  where  I  am 
— yet  I  am  also  climbing  the  steep  passes  of  an  Alpine  gorge 
— the  cold  snow  is  at  my  feet — I  hear  the  rush  and  roar  of  a 
thousand  torrents,  /icrimson  cloud  floats  above  the  summit 
of  a  white  glacier — j{_  parts  asunder  gradually,  and  in  its 
bright  center  a  face  smiles  forth  !  "  Nina  !  my  love,  my  wife, 
my  soul !  "  I  cry  aloud.  I  stretch  out  my  arms — I  clasp 
her! — bah  !  it  is  this  good  rogue  of  an  innkeeper  who  holds 
me  in  his  musty  embrace !  I  struggle  with  him  fiercely — 
pantingly. 

"  Fool !"  I  shriek  in  his  ear.  "  Let  me  go  to  her — her 
-lips  pout  for  kisses — let  me  gol  " 

Another  man  advances  and  seizes  me  ;  he  and  the  inn- 
keeper force  me  back  on  the  pillows — they  overcome  me,  and 
the  utter  incapacity  of  a  terrible  exhaustion  steals  away  my 
strength.  I  cease  to  struggle.  Pietro  and  his  assistant  look 
down  upon  me. 

"  E  morto  /"  they  whisper  one  to  the  other. 

I  hear  them  and  smile.  Dead  ?  Not  I  !  The  scorching 
sunlight  streams  through  the  open  door  of  the  inn — the  thirsty 
flies  buzz  with  persistent  loudness — some  voices  are  singing 
"  La  Fata  di  Amalfi  " — I  can  distinguish  the  words — 

"  Chiagnar6  la  mia  sventura 
Si  non  tuorne  chiu,  Rosella ! 
Tu  d'  Amalfi  la  chiu  bella, 
Tu  na  Fata  si  pe  me  ! 
Viene,  vie,  regina  mie, 
Viene  curre  a  chisto  core, 
Ca  non  c'e  non  c'e  sciore, 
Non  c'e  Stella  comm'  a  te  !  "* 

*  A  popular  soag  in  the  Neapolitan  dialect. 


fO  rENDETTAI 

That  is  a  true  song,  Nina  mia  /  "  Non  SI  stella  comm* 
What  did  Guido  say  ?  "  Purer  than  the  flawless  diamond- 
unapproachable  as  the  furthest  star  !  "  That  foolish  Pietro 
still  polishes  his  wine-bottles.  I  see  him — his  meek  round 
face  is  greasy  with  heat  and  dust^  but  I  cannot  understand 
how  he  comes  to  be  here  at  all, -tor  I  am  on  the  banks  of  a 
tropical  river  where  huge  palms  grow  wild,  and  drowsy  alli- 
gators lie  asleep  in  the  sun.  Their  large  jaws  are  open — 
their  small  eyes  glitter  greenly.  A  light  boat  glides  over  the 
silent  water — in  it  I  behold  the  erect  lithe  figure  of  an  Indian. 
His  features  are  strangely  similar  to  those  of  Guido.  He 
draws  a  long  thin  shining  blade  of  steel  as  he  approaches. 
Brave  fellow  ! — he  means  to  attack  single-handed  the  cruel 
creatures  who  lie  in  wait  for  him  on  the  sultry  shore.  He 
springs  to  land — I  watch  him  with  a  weird  fascination.  He 
passes  the  alligators — he  seems  not  to  be  aware  of  their  pres- 
ence— he  comes  with  swift,  unhesitating  step  to  me — it  is  / 
whom  he  seeks — it  is  in  my  heart  that  he  plunges  .the  cold 
steel  dagger,  and  draws  it  out  again  dripping  with  blood  ! 
Once — twice — thrice  ! — and  yet  I  cannot  die  !  I  writhe — 
I  moan  in  bitter  anguish  !  Then  something  dark  comes  be- 
tween me  and  the  glaring  sun — something  cool  and  shadowy, 
against  which  I  fling  myself  despairingly.  Two  dark  eyes 
look  steadily  into  mine,  and  a  voice  speaks  : 

"  Be  calm,  my  son,  be  calm.     Commend  thyself  to  Christ !  " 

It  is  my  friend  the  monk.     I  recognize  him  gladly.     He 

has   returned  from   his  errand   of   mercy.     Though   I   can 

scarcely  speak,   I  hear  myself  asking  for  news  of  the  boy. 

The  holy  man  crosses  himself  devoutly. 

"  May  his  young  soul  rest  in  peace  !  I  found  him  dead." 
I  am  dreamily  astonished  at  this.  Dead — so  soon  !  I  can- 
not understand  it ;  and  I  drift  off  again  into  a  state  of  con- 
fused imaginings.  As  I  look  back  now  to  that  time,  I  find  I 
have  no  specially  distinct  recollection  of  what  afterward 
happened  to  me.  I  know  I  suffered  intense,  intolerable 
pain — that  I  was  literally  tortured  on  a  rack  of  excruciating 
anguish — and  that  through  all  the  delirium  of  my  senses  L 
heard  a  muffled,  melancholy  sound  like  a  chant  or  prayer.  I 
have  an  idea  that  I  also  heard  the  tinkle  of  the  bell  that 
accompanies  the  Host,  but  my  brain  reeled  more  wildly  with 
each  moment,  and  I  cannot  be  certain  of  this.  I  remember 
shrieking  out  after  what  seemed  an  eternity  of  pain,  "  Not  to 
the  villa  !  no,  no,  not  there  !  You  shall  not  take  me — my 
turse  on  him  who  disobeys  me  1 " 


VENDETTA  /  ,, 

I  remember  then  a  fearful  sensation,  as  of  being  dragged 
into  a  deep  whirlpool,  from  whence  I  stretched  up  appealing 
hands  and  eyes  to  the  monk  who  stood  above  me — I  caught 
a  drowning  glimpse  of  a  silver  crucifix  glittering  before  my 
gaze,  and  at  last,  with  one  loud  cry  for  help,  I  sunk — down 
— down  !  into  an  abyss  of  black  night  and  nothingness  1 


CHAPTER  III. 

THERE  followed  a  long  drowsy  time  of  stillness  and  shadow. 
I  seemed  to  have  fallen  in  some  deep  well  of  delicious  oblivion 
and  obscurity.  Dream-like  images  still  flitted  before  my  fancy 
— these  were  at  first  undefinable,  but  after  awhile  they  took 
more  certain  shapes.  Strange  fluttering  creatures  hovered 
about  me — lonely  eyes  stared  at  me  from  a  visible  deep  gloom ; 
long  white  bony  fingers  grasping  at  nothing  made  signs  to  me 
of  warning  or  menace.  Then — very  gradually,  there  dawned 
upon  my  sense  of  vision  a  cloudy  red  mist  like  a  stormy  sunset, 
and  from  the  middle  of  the  blood-like  haze  a  huge  black  hand 
descended  toward  me.  It  pounced  upon  my  chest — it  grasped 
my  throat  in  its  monstrous  clutch,  and  held  me  down  with  a 
weight  of  iron.  I  struggled  violently — I  strove  to  cry  out, 
but  that  terrific  pressure  took  from  me  all  power  of  utterance. 
I  twisted  myself  to  right  and  left  in  an  endeavor  to  escape — 
but  my  tyrant  of  the  sable  hand  had  bound  me  in  on  all  sides. 
Yet  I  continued  to  wrestle  with  the  cruel  opposing  force  that 
strove  to  overwhelm  me — little  by  little — inch  by  inch — so  ! 
At  last !  One  more  struggle — victory  !  I  woke  T  Merciful 
God  !  Where  was  I  ?  In  what  horrible  atmosphere — in  what 
dense  darkness  ?  Slowly,  as  my  senses  returned  to  me,  I  re- 
membered my  recent  illness.  The  monk — the  man  Pietro — 
where  were  they  ?  What  had  they  done  to  me  ?  By  degrees, 
I  realized  that  I  was  lying  straight  down  upon  my  back — the 
couch  was  surely  very  hard  ?  Why  had  they  taken  the  pillows 
from  under  my  head  ?  A  pricking  sensation  darted  through 
my  veins — I  felt  my  own  hands  curiously — they  were  warm, 
and  my  pulse  beat  strongly,  though  fitfully.  But  what  was 
this  that  hindered  my  breathing  ?  Air — air  !  I  must  have 
air  !  I  put  up  my  hands — horror  !  They  struck  against  a 
hard  opposing  substance  above  me.  Quick  as  lightning  then 
the  truth  flashed  upon  my  mind  !  I  had  been  buried — buried 
alive  j  this  wooden  prison  that  inclosed  me  was  a  coffin  1  A 


2S  VENDETTA! 

frenzy  surpassing  that  of  an  infuriated  tiger  took  swift  posses- 
sion of  me — with  hands  and  nails  I  tore  and  scratched  at  the 
accursed  boards — with  all  the  force  of  my  shoulders  and  arms 
I  toiled  to  wrench  open  the  closed  lid  !  My  efforts  were  fruit- 
less !  I  grew  more  ferociously  mad  with  rage  and  terror.  How 
easy  were  all  deaths  compared  to  one  like  this  !  I  was  suffocat- 
ing— I  felt  my  eyes  start  from  their  sockets — blood  sprung 
from  my  mouth  and  nostrils — and  icy  drops  of  sweat  trickled 
from  my  forehead.  I  paused,  gasping  for  breath.  Then,  sud- 
denly nerving  myself  for  one  more  wild  effort,  I  hurled  my 
limbs  with  all  the  force  of  agony  and  desperation  against  one 
side  of  my  narrow  prison.  It  cracked — it  split  asunder  ! — and 
then — a  new  and  horrid  fear  beset  me,  and  I  crouched  back, 
panting  heavily.  If — if  I  were  buried  in  the  ground — so  ran 
my  ghastly  thoughts — of  what  use  to  break  open  the  coffin  and 
let  in  the  mold — the  damp  wormy  mold,  rich  with  the  bones  of 
the  dead — the  penetrating  mold  that  would  choke  up  my 
mouth  and  eyes,  and  seal  me  into  silence  forever  !  My  mind 
quailed  at  this  idea — my  brain  tottered  on  the  verge  of  mad- 
ness !  I  laughed — think  of  it ! — and  my  laugh  sounded  in  my 
ears  like  the  last  rattle  in  the  throat  of  a  dying  man.  But  I 
could  breathe  more  easily — even  in  the  stupefaction  of  my  fears 
— I  was  conscious  of  air.  Yes  ! — the  blessed  air  had  rushed  in 
somehow.  Revived  Lnd  encouraged  as  I  recognized  this  fact, 
I  felt  with  both  hands  till  I  found  the  crevice  I  had  made,  and 
then  with  frantic  haste  and  strength  I  pujjcd  and  dragged  at 
the  wood,  till  suddenly  the  whole  side  of  the  coffin  gave  way, 
and  I  was  able  to  force  up  the  lid.  I  stretched  out  my  arms — 
no  weight  of  earth  impeded  their  movements — I  felt  nothing 
but  air — empty  air.  Yielding  to  my  first  strong  impulse,  I 
leaped  out  of  the  hateful  box,  and  fell — fell  some  little  dis- 
tance, bruising  my  hands  and  knees  on  what  seemed  to  be  a 
stone  pavement.  Something  weighty  fell  also,  with  a  dull 
crashing  thud  close  to  me.  The  darkness  was  impenetrable. 
But  there  was  breathing  room,  and  the  atmosphere  was  cool 
and  refreshing.  With  some  pain  and  difficulty  I  raised  myself 
to  a  sitting  position  where  I  had  fallen.  My  limbs  were  stiff 
and  cramped  as  well  as  wounded,  and  I  shivered  as  with  strong 
ague.  But  my  senses  were  clear — the  tangled  chain  of  my  dis- 
ordered thoughts  became  even  and  connected — my  previous 
mad  excitement  gradually  calmed,  and  I  began  to  consider 
my  condition.  I  had  certainly  been  buried  alive — there  was 
no  doubt  of  that.  Intense  pain  had,  I  suppose,  resolved  itself 
into  a  long  trance  of  unconsciousness — the  people  of  the  inn 


VENDETTA  I  23 

where  I  had  been  taken  ill  had  at  once  believed  me  to  be 
dead  of  cholera,  and  with  the  panic-stricken,  indecent  haste 
common  in  all  Italy,  especially  at  a  time  of  plague,  had 
thrust  me  into  one  of  those  flimsy  coffins  which  were  then 
being  manufactured  by  scores  in  Naples — mere  shells  of  thin 
deal,  nailed  together  with  clumsy  hurry  and  fear.  But  how 
I  blessed  their  wretched  construction  !  Had  I  been  laid  in 
a  stronger  casket,  who  knows  if  even  the  most  desperate 
frenzy  of  my  strength  might  not  have  proved  unavailing  !  I 
shuddered  at  the  thought.  Yet  the  question  remained — 
Where  was  I  ?  I  reviewed  my  case  from  all  points,  and  for 
some  time  could  arrive  at  no  satisfactory  conclusion.  Stay, 
though  !  I  remembered  that  I  had  told  the  monk  my  name  ; 
he  knew  that  I  was  the  only  descendant  of  the  rich  Romani 
family.  What  followed  ?  Why,  naturally,  the  good  father 
had  only  done  what  his  duty  called  upon  him  to  do.  He 
had  seen  me  laid  in  the  vault  of  my  ancestors — the  great 
Romani  vault  that  had  never  been  opened  since  my  father's 
body  was  carried  to  its  last  resting-place  with  all  the  solemn 
pomp  and  magnificence  of  a  wealthy  nobleman's  funeral 
obsequies.  The  more  I  thought  of  this  the  more  probable  it 
seemed.  The  Romani  vault !  Its  forbidding  gloom  had  ter- 
rified me  as  a  lad  when  I  followed  my  father's  coffin  to  the 
stone  niche  assigned  to  it,  and  I  had  turned  my  eyes  away  in 
shuddering  pain  when  I  was  told  to  look  at  the  heavy  oaken 
casket  hung  with  tattered  velvet  and  ornamented  with  tar- 
nished silver,  which  contained  all  that  was  left  of  my 
mother,  who  died  young.  I  had  felt  sick  and  faint  and 
cold,  and  had  only  recovered  myself  when  I  stood  out  again 
in  the  free  air  with  the  blue  dome  of  heaven  high  above  me. 
And  now  I  was  shut  in  the  same  vault — a  prisoner — with  what 
hope  of  escape  ?  I  reflected.  The  entrance  to  the  vault,  I  re- 
membered, was  barred  by  a  heavy  door  of  closely  twisted  iron 
—from  thence  a  flight  of  steep  steps  led  downward — downward 
to  where  in  all  probability  I  now  was.  Suppose  I  could  in  the 
dense  darkness  feel  my  way  to  those  steps  and  climb  up  to  that 
door — of  what  avail  ?  It  was  locked — nay,  barred — and  as  it 
was  situated  in  a  remote  part  of  the  burial-ground,  there  was 
no  likelihood  of  even  the  keeper  of  the  cemetery  passing  by 
it  for  days — perhaps  not  for  weeks.  Then  mus.t  I  starve  ? 
Or  die  of  thirst  ?  Tortured  by  these  imaginings,  I  rose  up 
from  the  pavement  and  stood  erect.  My  feet  were  bare,  and 
the  cold  stone  on  which  I  stood  chilled  me  to  the  marrow 
It  was  fortunate  for  me,  I  thought,  that  they  had  buried  me 


«4  VEN-DETTAt 

as  a  cholera  corpse — they  had  left  me  half-clothed  for  fear  o! 
infection.  That  is,  I  had  my  flannel  shirt  on  and  my  usual 
walking  trousers.  Something  there  was,  too,  round  my  neck ; 
I  felt  it,  and  as  I  did  so  a  flood  of  sweet  and  sorrowful  mem- 
ories rushed  over  me.  It  was  a  slight  gold  chain,  and  on  it 
hung  a  locket  containing  the  portraits  of  my  wife  and  child. 
I  drew  it  out  in  the  darkness ;  I  covered  it  with  passionate 
kisses  and  tears — the  first  I  had  shed  since  my  death-like 
trance — tears  scalding  and  bitter  welled  into  my  eyes.  Life 
was  worth  living  while  Nina's  smile  lightened  the  world  !  I 
resolved  to  fight  for  existence,  no  matter  what  dire  horrors 
should  be  yet  in  store  for  me.  Nina — my  love — my  beauti- 
ful one  !  Her  face  gleamed  out  upon  me  in  the  pestilent 
gloom  of  the  charnel-house  ;  her  eyes  beckoned  me — her 
young  faithful  eyes  that  were  now,  I  felt  sure,  drowned  in 
weeping  for  my  supposed  death.  I  seemed  to  see  my  tender- 
hearted darling  sobbing  alone  in  the  empty  silence  of  the  room 
that  had  witnessed  a  thousand  embraces  between  herself  and 
me  ;  her  lovely  hair  disheveled  ;  her  sweet  face  pale  and  hag- 
gard with  the  bitterness  of  grief  !  Baby  Stella,  too,  no  doubt 
she  would  wonder,  poor  innocent !  why  I  did  not  come  to 
swing  her  as  usual  under  the  orange  boughs.  And  Guido — 
brave  and  true  friend  !  I  thought  of  him  with  tenderness. 
I  felt  I  knew  how  deep  and  lasting  would  be  his  honest  re- 
gret for  my  loss.  Oh,  I  would  leave  no  means  of  escape  un- 
tried ;  I  would  find  some  way  out  of  this  grim  vault !  How 
overjoyed  they  would  all  be  to  see  me  again — to  know  that  I 
was  not  dead  after  all !  What  a  welcome  I  should  receive  ! 
How  Nina  would  nestle  into  my  arms ;  how  my  little  child 
would  cling  to  me  ;  how  Guido  would  clasp  me  by  the  hand ! 
I  smiled  as  I  pictured  the  scene  of  rejoicing  at  the  dear  old 
villa — the  happy  home  sanctified  by  perfect  friendship  and 
faithful  love  ! 

A  deep  hollow  sound  booming  suddenly  on  my  ears  startled 
me — one  !  two  !  three  !  I  counted  the  strokes  up  to  twelve. 
It  was  some  church  bell  tolling  the  hour.  My  pleasing  fancies 
dispersed — I  again  faced  the  drear  reality  of  my  position. 
Twelve  o'clock  !  Midday  or  midnight  ?  I  could  not  tell.  I 
began  to  calculate.  It  was  early  morning  when  I  had  been 
taken  ill — not  much  past  eight  when  I  had  met  the  monk  and 
Bought  his  assistance  for  the  poor  little  fruit-seller  who  had 
after  all  perished  alone  in  his  sufferings.  Now  supposing  my 
illness  had  lasted  some  hours,  I  might  have  fallen  into  a  trance 
—died — as  those  around  me  had  thought,  somewhere  about 


VENDETTA  1  35 

noon.  In  that  case  they  would  certainly  have  buried  me  with 
as  little  delay  as  possible — before  sunset  at  all  events.  Think- 
ing these  points  over  one  by  one,  I  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  bell  J  had  just  heard  must  have  struck  midnight — 
the  midnight  of  the  very  day  of  my  burial.  I  shivered  ;  a 
kind  of  nejvous  dread  stole  over  me.  I  have  always  been 
physically  courageous,  but  at  the  same  time,  in  spite  orniy  edu- 
cation, I  am  somewhat  superstitious — what  Neapolitan  is  not  ? 
it  runs  in  the  southern  blood.  And  there  was  something  un- 
utterably fearful  in  the  sound  of  that  midnight  bell  clanging 
harshly  on  the  ears  of  a  man  pent  up  alive  in  a  funeral  vault 
with  the  decaying  bodies  of  his  ancestors  close  within  reach 
of  his  hand  !  I  tried  to  conquer  my  feelings — to  summon  up 
my  fortitude.  I  endeavored  to  reason  out  the  best  method 
of  escape.  I  resolved  to  feel  my  way,  if  possible,  to  the  steps 
of  the  vault,  and  with  this  idea  in  my  mind  I  put  out  my 
hands  and  began  to  move  along  slowly  and  with  the  utmost 
care.  What  was  that  ?  I  stopped  ;  I  listened ;  the  blood 
curdled  in  my  veins  !  A  shrill  cry,  piercing,  prolonged,  and 
melancholy,  echoed  through  the  hollow  arches  of  my  tomb. 
A  cold  perspiration  broke  out  all  over  my  body — my  heart 
beat  so  lourl/y  that  I  could  hear  it  thumping  against  my  ribs. 
Again — a^ain — that  weird  shriek,  followed  by  a  whir  and  flap 
of  wings.  I  breathed  again. 

"  It  is  an  owl,"  I  said  to  myself,  ashamed  of  my  fears  ;  "a 
poor  innocent  bird — a  companion  and  watcher  of  the  dead, 
and  therefore  its  voice  is  full  of  sorrowful  lamentation — but 
it  is  harmless,"  and  I  crept  on  with  increased  caution.  Sud- 
denly out  of  the  dense  darkness  there  stared  two  large  yellow 
eyes,  glittering  with  fiendish  hui  ger  and  cruelty.  For  a  mo- 
ment I  was  startled,  and  stepped  back  ;  the  creature  flew  at 
me  with  the  ferocity  of  a  tiger-cat !  I  fought  with  the  horri- 
ble thing  in  all  directions ;  it  wheeled  round  my  head,  it 
pounced  toward  my  face,  it  beat  me  with  its  large  wings — 
wings  that  I  could  feel  but  not  see ;  the  yellow  eyes  alone 
shone  in  the  thick  gloom  like  the  eyes  of  some  vindictive 
demon  !  I  struck  at  it  right  and  left — the  revolting  combat 
lasted  some  moments — I  grew  sick  and  dizzy,  yet  I  battled 
on  recklessly.  At  last,  thank  Heaven  !  the  huge  owl  was  van- 
quished ;  it  fluttered  backward  and  downward,  apparently  ex- 
hausted, giving  one  wild  screech  of  baffled  fury,  as  its  lamp- 
like  eyes  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  Breathless,  but  not 
subdued — every  nerve  in  my  body  quivering  with  excitement 
— I  pursued  my  way,  as  I  thought,  toward  the  stone  staircase, 


r26  VENDETTA! 

feeling  the  air  with  my  outstretched  hands  as  I  groped  along: 
In  a  little  while  I  met  with  an  obstruction — it  was  hard  and 
cold — a  stone  wall,  surely  ?  I  felt  it  up  and  down  and  found 
a  hollow  in  it — was  this  the  first  step  of  the  stair  ?  I 
dered  ;  it  seemed  very  high.  I  touched  it  cautiously — sud- 
denly I  came  in  contact  with  something  soft  and  clammy  to 
the  touch  like  moss  or  wet  velvet.  Fingering  this  with  a  kind 
of  repulsion,  I  soon  traced  out  the  oblong  shape  of  a  coffin 
Curiously  enough,  I  was  not  affected  much  by  the  discovery. 
I  found  myself  monotonously  counting  the  bits- of  raised  nu-tal 
which  served,  as  I  judged,  for  its  ornamentation.  Eight  bits 
lengthwise — and  the  soft  wet  stuff  between — four  bits  across ; 
then  a  pang  shot  through  me,  and  I  drew  my  hand  away 
quickly,  as  I  considered — whose  coffin  was  this  ?  My  father's  ? 
Or  was  I  thus  plucking,  like  a  man  in  delirium,  at  the  frag- 
ments of  velvet  on  that  cumbrous  oaken  casket  wherein  lay 
the  sacred  ashes  of  my  mother's  perished  beauty  ?  I  roused 
myself  from  the  apathy  into  which  I  had  fallen.  All  the  pains 
I  had  taken  to  find  my  way  through  the  vault  were  wasted ; 
I  was  lost  in  the  profound  gloom,  and  knew  not  where  to  turn. 
The  horror  of  my  situation  presented  itself  to  me  with  re- 
doubled force.  I  began  to  be  tormented  with  thirst.  I  fell 
on  my  knees  and  groaned  aloud. 

"  God  of  infinite  mercy  !  "  I  cried.  "  Saviour  of  the  world  ! 
By  the  souls  of  the  sacred  dead  whom  Thou  hast  in  Thy 
holy  keeping,  have  pity  upon  me !  Oh,  my  mother  !  if  in- 
deed thine  earthly  remains  are  near  me — think  of  me,  sweet 
angel  in  that  heaven  where  thy  spirit  dwells  at  rest — plead 
for  me  and  save  me,  or  let  me  die  now  and  be  tortured  no 
more !  " 

I  uttered  these  words  aloud,  and  the^  sound  of  my  wailing 
voice  ringing  through  the  somber  arches  of  the  vault  was 
strange  and  full  of  fantastic  terror  to  my  own  ears.  I  knew 
that  were  my  agony  much  further  prolonged  I  should  go 
mad.  And  I  dared  not  picture  to  myself  the  frightful 
things  which  a  maniac  might  be  capable  of,  shut  up  in 
such  a  place  of  death  and  darkness,  with  moldering  corpses 
for  companions  !  I  remained  on  my  knees,  my  face  buried 
in  my  hands.  I  forced  myself  into  comparative  calmness, 
and  strove  to  preserve  the  equilibrium  of  my  distracted 
mind.  Hush  !  What  exquisite  far-off  floating  voice  of  cheer 
was  that  ?  I  raised  my  head  and  listened,  entranced  ! 

"  Jug»  JUS>  jug  !  lodola,  lodola  J  trill-lil-lil !  sweet,  sweet, 
sweet}" 


VENDETTA!  27 

It  was  a  nightingale.  Familiar,  delicious,  angel-throated 
bird  !  How  I  blessed  thee  in  that  dark  hour  of  despair  ! 
How  I  praised  God  for  thine  innocent  existence  !  How  I 
sprung  up  and  laughed  and  wept  for  joy,  as,  all  unconscious 
of  me,  thou  didst  shake  out  a  shower  of  pearly  warblings  on 
the  breast  of  the  soothed  air  I  Heavenly  messenger  of  con- 
solation ! — even  now  I  think  of  thee  with  tenderness — for  thy 
sweet  sake  all  birds  possess  me  as  their  worshiper  ;  humanity 
has  grown  hideous  in  my  sight,  but  the  singing-life  of  the 
woods  and  hills — how  pure,  how  fresh  ! — the  nearest  thing 
to  happiness  on  this  side  heaven  ! 

A  rush  of  strength  and  courage  invigorated  me.  A  new 
idea  entered  my  brain.  I  determined  to  follow  the  voice 
of  the  nightingale.  It  sung  on  sweetly,  encouragingly — 
and  I  began  afresh  my  journeyings  through  the  darkness. 
I  fancied  that  the  bird  was  perched  on  one  of  the  trees  out- 
side the  entrance  of  the  vault,  and  that  if  I  tried  to  get 
within  closer  hearing  of  its  voice,  I  should  most  likely  be 
thus  guided  to  the  very  staircase  I  had  been  so  painfully 
seeking.  I  stumbled  along  slowly.  I  felt  feeble,  and  my 
limbs  shook  under  me.  This  time  nothing  impeded  my 
progress  ;  the  nightingale's  liquid  notes  floated  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  hope,  almost  exhausted,  sprung  up  again  in  my 
heart.  I  was  scarcely  conscious  of  my  own  movements.  I 
seemed  to  be  drawn  along  like  one  in  a  dream  by  the  golden 
thread  of  the  bird's  sweet  singing.  All  at  once  I  caught  my 
foot  against  a  stone  and  fell  forward  with  some  force,  but  I 
felt  no  pain — my  limbs  were  too  numb  to  be  sensible  of  any 
fresh  suffering.  I  raised  my  heavy,  aching  eyes  in  the  dark- 
ness ;  as  I  did  so  I  uttered  an  exclamation  of  thanksgiving. 
A  slender  stream  of  moonlight,  no  thicker  than  the  stem  of 
an  arrow,  slanted  downward  toward  me,  and  showed  me 
that  I  had  at  last  reached  the  spot  I  sought — in  fact,  I  had 
fallen  upon  the  lowest  step  of  the  stone  stairway.  I  could  not 
distinguish  the  entrance  door  of  the  vault,  but  I  knew  that  it 
must  be  at  the  summit  of  the  steep  ascent.  I  was  too  weary 
to  move  further  just  then.  I  lay  still  where  I  was,  staring  at 
the  solitary  moon-ray,  and  listening  to  the  nightingale,  whose 
rapturous  melodies  now  rang  out  upon  my  ears  with  full  dis- 
tinctness. One!  The  harsh-toned  bell  I  had  heard  before 
clanged  forth  the  hour.  It  would  soon  be  morning ;  I  re- 
solved to  rest  till  then.  Utterly  worn  out  in  body  and  mind, 
I  laid  down  my  head  upon  the  cold  stones  as  readily  as  if 


28  VENDETTA! 

they  had  been  the  softest  cushions,  and  in  a  few  moments 

forgot  all  my  miseries  in  a  profound  sleep. 

**  *  *  *  *  * 

I  must  have  slumbered  for  some  time,  when  I  was  suddenly 
awakened  by  a  suffocating  sensation  of  faintness  and  nausea, 
accompanied  by  a  sharp  pain  on  my  neck  as  though  some 
creatures  were  stinging  me.  I  put  my  hand  up  to  the  place 
— God !  shall  I  ever  forget  the  feel  of  the  Thing  my  trem- 
bling fingers  closed  upon  !  It  was  fastened  in  my  flesh — a 
winged,  clammy,  breathing  horror !  It  clung  to  me  with  a 
loathly  persistency  that  nearly  drove  me  frantic,  and  wild 
with  disgust  and  terror  I  screamed  aloud  !  I  closed  both 
hands  convulsively  upon  its  fat,  soft  body — I  literally  tore  it 
from  my  flesh  and  flung  it  as  far  back  as  I  could  into  the 
interior  blackness  of  the  vault.  For  a  time  I  believe  I  was 
indeed  mad — the  echoes  rang  with  the  piercing  shrieks  I 
could  not  restrain  !  Silent  at  last  through  sheer  exhaustion 
I  glared  about  me.  The  moonbeam  had  vanished  ;  in  its 
place  lay  a  shaft  of  pale  gray  light,  by  which  I  could  easily 
distinguish  the  whole  length  of  the  staircase  and  the  closed 
gateway  at  its  summit.  I  rushed  up  the  ascent  with  the 
feverish  haste  of  a  madman — I  grasped  the  iron  grating  with 
both  hands  and  shook  it  fiercely.  It  was  firm  as  a  r 
locked  fast.  I  called  for  help.  Utter  silence  answered  me. 
I  peered  through  the  closely  twisted  bars.  I  saw  the  grass, 
the  drooping  boughs  of  trees,  and  straight  before  my  line  of 
vision  a  little  piece  of  the  blessed  sky,  opal-tinted  and  faintly 
blushing  with  the  consciousness  of  the  approaching  sunrise. 
I  drank  in  the  sweet  fresh  air;  a  long  trailing  branch  of  the 
wild  grape  vine  hung  near  me  ;  its  leaves  were  covered  thickly 
with  dew.  I  squeezed  one  hand  through  the  grating  and 
gathered  a  few  of  these  green  morsels  of  coolness — I  ate 
them  greedily.  They  seemed  to  me  more  delicious  than  any- 
thing I  had  ever  tasted ;  they  relieved  the  burning  fever  of 
my  parched  throat  and  tongue.  The  glimpse  of  the  trees 
and  sky  soothed  and  calmed  me.  There  was  a  gentle  twit- 
tering of  awaking  birds  ;  my  nightingale  had  ceased  singing. 

I  began  to  recover  slowly  from  my  nervous  terrors,  and 
leaning  against  the  gloomy  arch  of  my  charnel-house  I  took 
courage  to  glance  backward  down  the  steep  stairway 
up  which  I  had  sprung  with  such  furious  precipitation. 
Something  white  lay  in  a  corner  on  the  seventh  step  from  the 
top.  Curious  to  see  what  it  was,  I  descended  cautiously, 
and  with  some  reluctance ;  it  was  the  half  of  a  thick  waxen 


VENDETTA!  29 

taper,  such  as  are  used  in  the  Catholic  ritual  at  the  burial  of 
the  dead.  No  doubt  it  had  been  thrown  down  there  by  some 
careless  acolyte,  to  save  himself  the  trouble  of  carrying  it 
after  the  service  had  ended.  I  looked  at  it  meditatively.  If 
I  only  had  a  light !  I  plunged  my  hands  half  abstractedly 
into  the  pockets  of  my  trousers — something  jingled  !  Truly 
they  had  buried  me  in  haste.  My  purse,  a  small  bunch  of 
keys,  my  card-case — one  by  one  I  drew  them  out  and 
examined  them  surprisedly — they  looked  so  familiar,  and 
withal  so  strange !  I  searched  again ;  and  this  time  found 
something  of  real  value  to  one  in  my  condition — a  small  box 
of  wax  vestas.  Now,  had  they  left  me  my  cigar-case  ?  No, 
that  was  gone.  It  was  a  valuable  silver  one — no  doubt  the 
monk,  who  attended  my  supposed  last  moments,  had  taken 
it,  together  with  my  watch  and  chain,  to  my  wife. 

Well,  I  could  not  smoke,  but  I  could  strike  a  light.  And 
there  was  the  funeral  taper  ready  for  use.  The  sun  had  not 
yet  risen.  I  must  certainly  wait  till  broad  day  before  I  could 
hope  to  attract  by  my  shouts  any  stray  person  who  might  pass 
through  the  cemetery.  Meanwhile,  a  fantastic  idea  suggested 
itself.  I  would  go  and  look  at  my  own  coffin  !  Why  not  ? 
It  would  be  a  novel  experience.  The  sense  of  fear  had 
entirely  deserted  me ;  the  possession  of  that  box  of  matches 
was  sufficient  to  endow  me  with  absolute  hardihood.  I 
picked  up  the  church-candle  and  lighted  it;  it  gave  at  first  a 
feeble  flicker,  but  afterward  burned  with  a  clear  and  steady 
flame.  Shading  it  with  one  hand  from  the  draught,  I  gave  a 
parting  glance  at  the  fair  daylight  that  peeped  smilingly  in 
through  my  prison  door,  and  then  went  down — down  again 
into  the  dismal  place  where  I  had  passed  the  night  in  such 
indescribable  agony. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NUMBERS  of  lizards  glided  away  from  my  feet  as  I  de- 
scended the  steps,  and  when  the  flare  of  my  torch  penetrated 
the  darkness  I  heard  a  scurrying  of  wings  mingled  with 
various  hissing  sounds  and  wild  cries.  I  knew  now — none 
better — what  weird  and  abominable  things  had  habitation  in 
this  storehouse  of  the  dead,  but  I  felt  I  could  defy  them  all, 
armed  with  the  light  I  carried.  The  way  that  had  seemed 
90  long  in  the  dense  gloom  was  brief  and  easy,  and  I  soon 
found  myself  at  the  scene  of  my  unexpected  awakening  from 


30  VENDETTA  t 

sleep.  The  actual  body  of  the  vault  was  square-shaped,  like 
a  small  room  inclosed  within  high  walls — walls  which  wrr<j 
scooped  out  in  various  places  so  as  to  form  niches  in  which 
the  narrow  caskets  containing  the  bones  of  all  the  departed 
members  of  the  Roman!  family  were  placed  one  above  the 
other  like  so  many  bales  of  goods  arranged  evenly  on  the 
shelves  of  an  ordinary  warehouse.  I  held  the  candle  high 
above  my  head  and  looked  about  me  with  a  morbid  interest. 
I  soon  perceived  what  I  sought — my  own  coffin. 

There  it  was  in  a  niche  some  five  feet  from  the  ground,  its 
splintered  portions  bearing  decided  witness  to  the  dreadful 
struggle  I  had  made  to  obtain  my  freedom.  I  advanced  and 
examined  it  closely.  It  was  a  frail  shell  enough — unlined, 
unornamented — a  wretched  sample  of  the  undertaker's  art, 
though  God  knows  /had  no  fault  to  find  with  its  workman- 
ship, nor  with  the  haste  of  him  who  fashioned  it.  Something 
shone  at  the  bottom  of  it — it  was  a  crucifix  of  ebony  and  sil- 
ver. That  good  monk  again  !  His  conscience  had  not  allowed 
him  to  see  me  buried  without  this  sacred  symbol ;  he  had  per- 
haps laid  it  on  my  breast  as  the  last  service  he  could  render 
me  ;  it  had  fallen  from  thence,  no  doubt,  when  I  had  wrenched 
my  way  through  the  boards  that  inclosed  me.  I  took  it  and 
kissed  it  reverently — I  resolved  that  if  ever  I  met  the  holy 
father  again,  I  would  tell  him  my  story,  and,  as  a  proof  of  its 
truth,  restore  to  him  this  cross,  which  he  would  be  sure  to 
recognize.  Had  they  put  my  name  on  the  coffin-lid  ?  I  won- 
dered. Yes,  there  it  was — painted  on  the  wood  in  coarse, 
black  letters,  "  FABIO  ROMANI  " — then  followed  the  date  of 
my  birth ;  then  a  short  Latin  inscription,  stating  that  I  had 
died  of  cholera  on  August  15,  1884.  That  was  yesterday — 
only  yesterday  !  I  seemed  to  have  lived  a  century  since  then. 

I  turned  to  look  at  my  father's  resting-place.  The  velvet 
on  his  coffin  hung  from  its  sides  in  moldering  remnants — but 
it  was  not  so  utterly  damp-destroyed  and  worm-eaten  as  the 
soaked  and  indistinguishable  material  that  still  clung  to  the 
massive  oaken  chest  in  the  next  niche,  where  she  lay — she  from 
whose  tender  arms  I  had  received  my  first  embrace — she  in 
whose  loving  eyes  I  had  first  beheld  the  world  !  I  knew  by  a 
sort  of  instinct  that  it  must  have  been  with  the  frayed  frag- 
ments on  her  coffin  that  my  fingers  had  idly  played  in  the  dark- 
ness. I  counted  as  before  the  bits  of  metal — eight  bits  length- 
wise, and  four  bits  across — and  on  my  father's  close  casket 
there  were  ten  silver  plates  lengthwise  and  five  across.  My 
poor  little  mother  !  I  thought  of  her  picture — it  hung  in  my 


VENDETTA!  ji 

library  at  home  ;  the  picture  of  a  young,  smiling,  dark-haired 
beauty,  whose  delicate  tint  was  as  that  of  a  peach  ripening  in 
the  summer  sun.  All  that  loveliness  had  decayed  into — 
what  ?  I  shuddered  involuntarily — then  I  knelt  humbly  before 
those  two  sad  hollows  in  the  cold  stone,  and  implored  the  bless- 
ing of  the  dead  and  gone  beloved  ones  to  whom,  while  they 
lived,  my  welfare  had  been  dear.  While  I  occupied  this  kneel- 
ing position  the  flame  of  my  torch  fell  directly  on  some  small 
object  that  glittered  with  remarkable  luster.  I  went  to  exam- 
ine it ;  it  was  a  jeweled  pendant  composed  of  one  large  pear- 
shaped  pearl,  set  round  with  fine  rose  brilliants  !  Surprised  at 
this  discovery,  I  looked  about  to  see  where  such  a  valuable 
gem  could  possible  have  come  from.  I  then  noticed  an  unusu- 
ally large  coffin  lying  sideways  on  the  ground  ;  it  appeared  as 
if  it  had  fallen  suddenly  and  with  force,  for  a  number  of  loose 
stones  and  mortar  were  sprinkled  near  it.  Holding  the  light 
close  to  the  ground,  I  observed  that  a  niche  exactly  below  the 
one  in  which  /had  been  laid  was  empty,  and  that  a  consider- 
able portion  of  the  wall  there  was  broken  away.  I  then  re* 
membered  that  when  I  had  sprung  so  desperately  out  of  my 
narrow  box  I  had  heard  something  fall  with  a  crash  beside  me- 
This  was  the  thing,  then — this  long  coffin,  big  enough  to  con- 
tain a  man  seven  feet  high  and  broad  in  proportion.  What 
gigantic  ancestor  had  I  irreverently  dislodged  ? — and  was  it 
from  a  skeleton  throat  that  the  rare  jewel  which  I  held  in  my 
hand  had  been  accidentally  shaken  ? 

My  curiosity  was  excited,  and  I  bent  close  to  examine  the  lid 
of  this  funeral  chest.  There  was  no  name  on  it — no  mark  of 
any  sort,  save  one — a  dagger  roughly  painted  in  red.  Here 
was  a  mystery  !  I  resolved  to  penetrate  it.  I  set  up  my  can- 
dle in  a  little  crevice  of  one  of  the  empty  niches,  and  laid  the 
pearl  and  diamond  pendant  beside  it,  thus  disembarrassing 
myself  of  all  incumbrance.  The  huge  coffin  lay  on  its  side,  as 
I  have  said  ;  its  uppermost  corner  was  splintered ;  I  applied 
both  hands  to  the  work  of  breaking  further  asunder  these 
already  split  portions.  As  I  did  so  a  leathern  pouch  or  bag 
rolled  out  and  fell  at  my  feet.  I  picked  it  up  and  opened  it— ^ 
it  was  full  of  gold  pieces  !  More  excited  than  ever,  I  seized  a 
large  pointed  stone,  and  by  the  aid  of  this  extemporized  instru- 
ment, together  with  the  force  of  my  own  arms,  hands,  and  feet, 
I  managed,  after  some  ten  minutes'  hard  labor,  to  break  open 
the  mysterious  casket. 

When  I  had  accomplished  this  deed  I  stared  at  the  result 
like  a  man  stupefied.  No  moldering  horror  met  my  gaze — no 


3*  VENDETTA! 

blanched  or  decaying  bones  ;  no  grinning  skull  mocked  me 
with  its  hollow  eye-sockets.  I  looked  upon  a  treasure 
worthy  of  an  emperor's  envy  !  The  big  coffin  was  literally 
lined  and  packed  with  incalculable  wealth.  Fifty  large 
leathern  bags  tied  with  coarse  cord  lay  uppermost  ;  more 
than  half  of  these  were  crammed  with  gold  coins,  the  rest 
were  full  of  priceless  gems — necklaces,  tiaras,  bracelets, 
watches,  chains,  and  other  articles  of  feminine  adornment 
were  mingled  with  loose  precious  stones — diamonds,  rubies, 
emeralds,  and  opals,  some  of  unusual  size  and  luster,  some 
uncut,  and  some  all  ready  for  the  jeweler's  setting.  Beneath 
these  bags  were  packed  a  number  of  pieces  of  silk,  velvet, 
and  cloth  of  gold,  each  piece  being  wrapped  by  itself  in  a 
sort  of  oil-skin,  strongly  perfumed  with  camphor  and  other 
spices.  There  were  also  three  lengths  of  old  lace,  fine  as 
gossamer,  of  matchless  artistic  design,  in  perfect  condition. 
Among  these  materials  lay  two  large  trays  of  solid  gold  work- 
manship, most  exquisitely  engraved  and  ornamented,  also 
four  gold  drinking-cups,  of  quaint  and  massive  construction. 
Other  valuables  and  curious  trifles  there  were,  such  as  an 
ivory  statuette  of  Psyche  on  a  silver  pedestal,  a  waistband  of 
coins  linked  together,  a  painted  fan  with  a  handle  set  in 
amber  and  turquois,  a  fine  steel  dagger  in  a  jeweled  sheath, 
and  a  mirror  framed  in  old  pearls.  Last,  but  not  least,  at 
the  very  bottom  of  the  chest  lay  rolls  upon  rolls  of  paper  money 
amounting  to  some  millions  of  francs — in  all  far  surpassing 
what  I  had  myself  formerly  enjoyed  from  my  own  revenues. 
I  plunged  my  hands  deep  in  the  leathern  bags ;  I  fingered 
the  rich  materials  ;  all  this  treasure  was  mine/  I  had  found 
it  in  my  own  burial  vault  !  I  had  surely  the  right  to  consider 
it  as  my  property  ?  I  began  to  consider — how  could  it  have 
been  placed  there  without  my  knowledge  ?  The  answer  to 
this  question  occurred  to  me  at  once.  Brigands  !  Of  course  ! 
— what  a  fool  I  was  not  to  have  thought  of  them  before  ; 
the  dagger  painted  on  the  lid  of  the  chest  should  have  guided 
me  to  the  solution  of  the  mystery.  A  red  dagger  was  the 
recognized  sign-manual  of  a  bold  and  dangerous  brigand 
named  Carmelo  Neri,  who,  with  his  reckless  gang,  haunted 
the  vicinity  of  Palermo. 

"  So  !  "  I  thought,  "  this  is  one  of  your  bright  ideas,  my 
cut-throat  Carmelo  !  Cunning  rogue  !  you  calculated  well — 
you  thought  that  none  would  disturb  the  dead,  much  less 
break  open  a  coffin  in  search  of  gold.  Admirably  planned, 
my  Carmelo  !  But  this  time  you  must  play  a  losing  game  1 


VENDETTAf  33 

A  supposed  dead  man  coming  to  life  again  deserves  some- 
thing for  his  trouble,  and  I  should  be  a  fool  not  vo  accept  the 
goods  the  gods  and  the  robbers  provide.  An  ill-gotten  hoard 
of  wealth,  no  doubt ;  but  better  in  my  hands  than  in  yours, 
friend  Carmelo  ! " 

And  I  meditated  for  some  minutes  on  this  strange  affair. 
If,  indeed — and  I  saw  no  reason  to  doubt  it — I  had  chanced 
to  find  some  of  the  spoils  of  the  redoubtable  Neri,  this  great 
chest  must  have  been  brought  over  by  sea  from  Palermo. 
Probably  four  stout  rascals  had  carried  the  supposed  coffin 
in  a  mock  solemn  procession,  under  the  pretense  of  its  con- 
taining the  body  of  a  comrade.  These  thieves  have  a  high 
sense  of  humor.  Yet  the  question  remained  to  be  solved — 
How  had  they  gained  access  to  my  ancestral  vault,  unless  by 
means  of  a  false  key  ?  All  at  once  I  was  left  in  darkness. 
My  candle  went  out  as  though  blown  upon  by  a  gust  of  air. 
I  had  my  matches,  and  of  course  could  easily  light  it  again, 
but  I  was  puzzled  to  imagine  the  cause  of  its  sudden  extinc- 
tion. I  looked  about  me  in  the  temporary  gloom  and  saw, 
to  my  surprise,  a  ray  of  light  proceeding  from  a  corner  of  the 
very  niche  where  I  had  fixed  the  candle  between  two  stones. 
I  approached  and  put  my  hand  to  the  place  ;  a  strong  draught 
blew  throught  a  hole  large  enough  to  admit  the  passage  of 
three  fingers.  I  quickly  relighted  my  torch,  and  examining 
this  hole  and  the  back  of  the  niche  attentively,  found  that 
four  blocks  of  granite  in  the  wall  had  been  removed  and 
their  places  supplied  by  thick  square  logs  cut  from  the  trunks 
of  trees-  These  logs  were  quite  loosely  fitted.  I  took  them 
out  easily  one  by  one,  and  then  came  upon  a  close  pile  of 
brushwood.  As  I  gradually  cleared  this  away  a  large  aper- 
ture disclosed  itself  wide  enough  for  any  man  to  pass  through 
without  trouble.  My  heart  beat  with  the  rapture  of  expected 
liberty ;  I  clambered  up — I  looked — thank  God  !  I  saw  the 
landscape — the  sky !  In  two  minutes  I  stood  outside  the 
vault  on  the  soft  grass,  with  the  high  arch  of  heaven  above 
me,  and  the  broad  Bay  of  Naples  glittering  deliciously  bofore 
my  eyes  !  I  clapped  my  hands  and  shouted  for  pure  joy  !  I 
was  free  !  Free  to  return  to  life,  to  love,  to  the  arms  of  my 
beautiful  Nina — free  to  resume  the  pleasant  course  of  exist- 
ence on  the  gladsome  earth — free  to  forget,  if  I  could,  the 
gloomy  horrors  of  my  premature  burial.  If  Carmelo  Neri 
had  heard  the  blessings  I  heaped  upon  his  head — he  would 
for  once  have  deemed  himself  a  saint  rather  than  a  brigand. 
What  did  I  not  owe  to  the  glorious  ruffian  1  Fortune  and 
3 


34  VENDETTA! 

freedom  !  for  it  was  evident  that  this  secret  passage  into  the 
Romani  vault  had  been  cunningly  contrived  by  himself  or  his 
followers  for  their  own  private  purposes.  Seldom  has  any  man 
been  more  grateful  to  his  best  benefactor  than  1  was  to  the 
famous  thief  upon  whose  grim  head,  as  I  knew,  a  price  had 
been  set  for  many  months.  The  poor  wretch  was  in  hiding. 
Well !  the  authorities  should  get  no  aid  from  me,  I  resolved  ; 
even  if  I  were  to  discover  his  whereabouts.  Why  should  I 
betray  him  ?  He  had  unconsciously  done  more  for  me  than 
my  best  friend.  Nay,  what  friends  will  you  find  at  all  in  the 
world  when  you  need  substantial  good  ?  Few,  or  none. 
Touch  the  purse — test  the  heart ! 

What  castles  in  the  air  I  built  as  I  stood  rejoicing  in  the 
morning  light  and  my  newly  acquired  liberty — what  dreams 
of  perfect  happiness  flitted  radiantly  before  my  fancy  1  Nina 
and  I  would  love  each  other  more  fondly  than  before,  I 
thought — our  separation  had  been  brief,  but  terrible — and 
the  idea  of  what  it  might  have/  been  would  endear  us  to  one 
another  with  tenfold  fervor. v  And  little  Stella !  Why — this 
very  evening  I  would  swing  her  again  under  the  orange 
boughs  and  listen  to  her  sweet  shrill  laughter !  This  very 
evening  I  would  clasp  Guide's  hand  in  a  gladness  too  great 
for  words  !  This  very  night  my  wife's  fair  head  would  lie 
'pillowed  on  my  breast  in  an  ecstatic  silence  broken  only  by  the 
music  of  kisses.  Ah !  my  brain  grew  dizzy  with  the  joyful 
visions  that  crowded  thickly  and  dazzlingly  upon  me  !  The 
sun  had  risen — his  long  straight  beams,  like  golden  spears, 
touched  the  tops  of  the  green  trees,  and  roused  little  flashes 
as  of  red  and  blue  fire  on  the  shining  surface  of  the  bay.  I 
heard  the  rippling  of  water  and  the  measured  soft  dash  of 
oars  ;  and  somewhere  from  a  distant  boat  the  mellifluous 
voice  of  a  sailor  sung  a  verse  of  the  popular  riiorndlo — 

"  Sciore  cT amenta 
Sta  parolella  mia  tieu?  ammento 

Zompa  llarl  lliral 
Sciore  I i,  none  ! 
Le  vo^liofa  mort  de  fas  stone 

Zompa  llarl  lli> a  I"* 

I  smiled — "  Mori  depassionef"  Nina  and  I  would  know 
the  meaning  of  those  sweet  words  when  the  moon  rose  and 
the  nightingales  sung  their  love-songs  to  the  dreaming  flowers ! 
Full  of  these  happy  fancies,  I  inhaled  the  pure  morning  ait 
for  some  minutes,  and  then  re-entered  the  vault. 

*  Neapolitan  diatecU 


VENDMTTAl  35 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  first  thing  I  did  was  to  repack  all  the  treasures  I  had 
discovered.  This  work  was  easily  accomplished.  For  the 
present  I  contented  myself  with  taking  two  of  the  leathern 
bags  for  my  own  use,  one  full  of  gold  pieces,  the  other  of 
jewels.  The  chest  had  been  strongly  made,  and  was  not 
much  injured  by  being  forced  open.  I  closed  its  lid  as  tight- 
ly as  possible,  and  dragged  it  to  a  remote  and  dark  corner  of 
the  vault,  where  I  placed  three  heavy  stones  upon  it.  I  then 
took  the  two  leathern  pouches  I  had  selected,  and  stuffed 
one  in  each  of  the  pockets  of  my  trousers.  The  action 
reminded  me  of  the  scantiness  of  attire  in  which  I  stood 
arrayed.  Could  I  be  seen  in  the  public  roads  in  such  a 
plight  ?  I  examined  my  purse,  which,  as  I  before  stated,  had 
been  left  to  me,  together  with  my  keys  and  card-case,  by  the 
terrified  persons  who  had  huddled  me  into  my  coffin  with 
such  scant  ceremony.  It  contained  two  twenty-franc  pieces 
and  some  loose  silver.  Enough  to  buy  a  decent  costume  of 
some  sort.  But  where  could  I  make  the  purchase,  and  how  ? 
Must  I  wait  till  evening  and  slink  out  of  this  charnel-house 
like  the  ghost  of  a  wretched  criminal  ?  No  !  come  what 
would,  I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  linger  a  moment  longer 
in  the  vault.  The  swarms  of  beggars  that  infest  Naples 
exhibit  themselves  in  every  condition  of  rags,  dirt,  and 
misery  ;  at  the  very  worst  I  could  only  be  taken  for  one  of 
them.  And  whatever  difficulties  I  might  encounter,  no  mat- 
ter ! — they  would  soon  be  over. 

Satisfied  that  I  had  placed  the  brigand  coffin  in  a  safe 
position,  I  secured  the  pearl  and  diamond  pendant  I  had 
first  found,  to  the  chain  round  my  neck.  I  intended  this 
ornament  as  a  gift  for  my  wife.  Then,  once*  more  climbing 
through  the  aperture,  I  closed  it  completely  with  the 
logs  and  brushwood  as  it  was  before,  and  examining  it  narrow- 
ly from  the  outside,  I  saw  that  it  was  utterly  impossible  to 
discern  the  smallest  hint  of  any  entrance  to  a  subterranean 
passage,  so  well  and  cunningly  had  it  been  contrived.  Now, 
nothing  more  remained  for  me  to  do  but  to  make  the  best 
of  my  way  to  the  city,  there  to  declare  my  identity,  obtain 
food  and  clothes,  and  then  to  hasten  with  all  possible  speed 
to  rny  own  residence, 

Standing  on  a  little  hillock,  I  looked  about  me  to  see  which 


36  VENDETTA  t 

direction  I  should  take.  The  cemetery  was  situated  on  the 
outskirts  of  Naples — Naples  itself  lay  on  my  left  hand.  I 
perceived  a  sloping  road  winding  in  that  direction,  and 
judged  that  if  I  followed  it  it  would  lead  me  to  the  city  sub- 
urbs. Without  further  hesitation  I  commenced  my  walk. 
It  was  now  full  day.  My  bare  feet  sunk  deep  in  the  dust  that 
was  hot  as  desert  sand — the  blazing  sun  beat  down  fiercely 
on  my  uncovered  head,  but  I  felt  none  of  these  discomforts ; 
my  heart  was  too  full  of  gladness.  I  could  have  sung  aloud 
for  delight  as  I  stepped  swiftly  along  toward  home — and  Nina  ! 
I  was  aware  of  a  great  weakness  in  my  limbs — my  eyes  and 
head  ached  with  the  strong  dazzling  light ;  occasionally,  too, 
an  icy  shiver  ran  through  me  that  made  my  teeth  chatter. 
But  1  recognized  these  symptoms  as  the  after  effects  of  my 
so  nearly  fatal  illness,  and  I  paid  no  heed  to  them.  A  few 
weeks'  rest  under  my  wife's  loving  care,  and  I  knew  I  should 
be  as  well  as  ever.  I  stepped  on  bravely.  For  some  time  j 
met  no  one,  but  at  last  I  overtook  a  small  cart  laden  with 
freshly  gathered  grapes.  The  driver  lay  on  his  seat  asleep ; 
his  pony  meanwhile  cropped  the  green  herbage  by  the  road- 
side, and  every  now  and  then  shook  the  jingling  bells  on  his 
harness  as  though  expressing  the  satisfaction  he  felt  at  being 
left  to  his  own  devices.  The  piled-un  grapes  looked  tempt- 
ing, and  I  was  both  hungry  and  thrsty.  I  laid  a  hand  on 
the  sleeping  man's  shoulder ;  he  awoke  with  a  start.  See- 
ing me,  his  face  assumed  an  expression  of  the  wildest  terror ; 
he  jumped  from  his  cart  and  sunk  down  on  his  knees  in  the 
dust,  imploring  me  by  the  Madonna,  St.  Joseph,  and  all  the 
saints  to  spare  his  life.  I  laughed  ;  his  fears  seemed  to  me 
ludicrous.  Surely  there  was  nothing  alarming  about  me  be- 
yond my  paucity  of  clothing. 

"Get  up,  man!"  I  said.  "I  want  nothing  of  you  but  a 
few  grapes,  and  for  them  I  will  pay."  And  I  held  out  to 
him  a  couple  of  francs.  He  rose  from  the  dust,  still  trem- 
bling and  eying  me  askance  with  evident  suspicion,  took  sev- 
eral bunches  of  the  purple  fruit,  and  gave  them  to  me  without 
saying  a  word.  Then,  pocketing  the  money  I  proffered,  he 
sprung  into  his  cart,  and  lashing  his  pony  till  the  unfortunate 
animal  plunged  and  reared  with  pain  and  fury,  rattled  off 
down  the  road  at  such  a  break-neck  speed  that  I  saw  noth- 
ing but  a  whirling  blot  of  wheels  disappearing  in  the  distance. 
I  was  amused  at  the  absurdity  of  this  man's  terror.  What 
did  he  take  me  for,  I  wondered  ?  A  ghost  or  a  brigand  ?  I 
ate  my  grapes  leisurely  as  I  walked  along — they  were  deli- 


r END  ETTA  f  37 

ciously  cool  and  refreshing — food  and  wine  in  one.  I  met 
several  other  persons  as  I  neared  the  city,  market  people  and 
venders  of  ices — but  they  took  no  note  of  me — in  fact,  I 
avoided  them  all  as  much  as  possible.  On  reaching  the 
surburbs  I  turned  into  the  first  street  I  saw  that  seemed 
likely  to  contain  a  few  shops.  It  was  close  and  dark  and 
foul-smelling,  but  I  had  not  gone  far  down  it  when  I  came 
upon  the  sort  of  place  I  sought — a  wretched  tumble-down 
hovel,  with  a  partly  broken  window,  through  which  a  shabby 
array  of  second-hand  garments  were  to  be  dimly  perceived, 
strung  up  for  show  on  pieces  of  coarse  twine.  Ic  was  one 
of  those  dirty  dens,  where  sailors,  returning  from  long  voy- 
ages, frequently  go  to  dispose  of  the  various  trifles  they  have 
picked  up  in  foreign  countries,  so  that  among  the  forlorn 
specimens  of  second-hand  wearing  apparel  many  quaint  and 
curious  objects  were  to  be  seen,  such  as  shells,  branches  of 
rough  coral,  strings  of  beads,  cups  and  dishes  carved  out  of 
cocoa-nut,  dried  gourds,  horns  of  animals,  fans,  stu-ffed  para- 
keets, and  old  coins — while  a  grotesque  wooden  idol  peered 
hideously  forth  from  between  the  stretched-out  portions  of  a 
pair  of  old  nankeen  trousers,  as  though  surveying  the  miscel- 
laneous collection  in  idiotic  amazement.  An  aged  man  sat 
smoking  at  the  open  door  of  this  promising  habitation — a 
true  specimen  of  a  Neapolitan  grown  old.  The  skin  of  his 
face  was  like  a  piece  of  brown  parchment  scored  all  over  with 
deep  furrows  and  wrinkles,  as  though  Time,  disapproving  of 
the  history  he  had  himself  penned  upon  it,  had  scratched 
over  and  blotted  out  all  records,  so  that  no  one  should  hence- 
forth be  able  to  read  what  had  once  been  clear  writing.  The 
only  animation  left  in  him  seemed  to  have  concentrated  itself 
in  his  eyes,  which  were  black  and  bead-like,  and  roved  hither 
and  thither  with  a  glance  of  ever-restless  and  ever-suspicious 
inquiry.  He  saw  me  coming  toward  him,  but  he  pretended 
to  be  absorbed  in  a  profound  study  of  the  patch  of  blue  sky 
that  gleamed  between  the  closely  leaning  houses  of  the  nar- 
row street.  I  accosted  him — and  he  brought  his  gaze 
swiftly  down  to  my  level,  and  stared  at  me  with  keen  inquisi- 
tiveness. 

"  I  have  had  a  long  tramp,"  I  said,  briefly,  for  he  was  not 
the  iind  of  man  to  whom  I  could  explain  my  recent  terrible 
adventure,  "  and  I  have  lost  some  of  my  clothes  by  an  acci- 
dent on  the  way.  Can  you  sell  me  a  suit  ?  Anything  will 
do — I  am  not  particular." 

The  old  man  took  his  pipe  irpm  his  mouth. 


38  VENDETTA! 

"  Do  you  fear  the  plague  ? "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  just  recovered  from  an  attack  of  it,"  I  replied, 
coolly. 

He  looked  at  me  attentively  from  head  to  foot,  and  then 
broke  into  a  low  chuckling  laugh. 

"  Ha !  ha  !  "  he  muttered,  half  to  himself,  half  to  me. 
"  Good — good  !  Here  is  one  like  myself — not  afraid — not 
afraid  I  We  are  not  cowards.  We  do  not  find  fault  with 
the  blessed  saints — they  send  the.  plague.  The  beautiful 
plague  ! — I  love  it !  I  buy  all  the  clothes  I  can  get  that  are 
taken  from  the  corpses — they  are  nearly  always  excellent 
clothes.  I  never  clean  them — I  sell  them  again  at  once — yes 
— yes!  Why  not?  The  people  must  die — the  sooner  the 
better !  I  help  the  good  God  as  much  as  I  can."  And  the 
old  blasphemer  crossed  himself  devoutly. 

I  looked  down  upon  him  from  where  I  stood  drawn  up  to 
my  full  height,  with  a  glance  of  disgust.  He  filled  me  with 
something  of  the  same  repulsion  I  had  felt  when  I  touched 
the  unnameable  Thing  that  fastened  on  my  neck  while  I 
slept  in  the  vault. 

"  Come  1 "  I  said,  somewhat  roughly,  "  will  you  sell  me  a 
suit  or  no  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  and  he  rose  stiffly  from  his  seat ;  he  was  very 
short  of  stature,  and  so  bent  with  age  and  infirmity  that  he 
looked  more  like  the  crooked  bough  of  a  tree  than  a  man,  as 
he  hobbled  before  me  into  his  dark  shop.  "  Come  inside, 
come  inside !  Take  your  choice  ;  there  is  enough  here  to 
suit  all  tastes.  See  now,  what  would  you  ?  Behold  here  the 
dress  of  a  gentleman,  ah  !  what  beautiful  cloth,  what  strong 
wool !  English  make  ?  Yes,  yes  !  He  was  English  that 
wore  it ;  a  big,  strong  milord,  that  drank  beer  and  brandy 
like  water — and  rich — just  heaven! — how  rich!  But  the 
plague  took  him ;  he  died  cursing  God,  and  calling  bravely 
for  more  brandy.  Ha,  ha !  a  fine  death — a  splendid  death  I 
His  landlord  sold  me  his  clothes  for  three  francs — one,  two, 
three — but  you  must  give  me  six;  that  is  fair  profit,  is  it  not? 
And  I  am  old  and  poor.  I  must  make  something  to  live  upon." 

I  threw  aside  the  tweed  suit  he  displayed  for  my  inspec- 
tion. "  Nay,"  I  said,  "  I  care  nothing  for  the  plague,  but 
find  me  something  better  than  the  cast-off  clothing  of  a 
brandy-soaked  Englishman.  I  would  rather  wear  the  motley 
garb  of  a  fellow  who  played  the  fool  in  carnival." 

The  old  dealer  laughed  with  a  crackling  sound  in  his  with' 
cred  throat,  like  the  rattling  of  stonos  in  a  tin  pot. 


VENDETTA  /  59 

"  Good,  good  !  "  he  croaked.  "  I  like  that,  I  like  that ! 
Thou  art  old,  but  thou  art  merry.  That  pleases  me ;  one 
should  laugh  always.  Why  not  ?  Death  laughs  ;  you  never 
see  a  solemn  skull ;  it  laughs  always  !  " 

And  he  plunged  his  long  lean  ringers  into  a  deep  drawer 
full  of  miscellaneous  garments,  mumbling  to  himself  all  the 
while.  I  stood  beside  him  in  silence,  pondering  on  his  words, 
"  Thou  art  old,  but  merry."  What  did  he  mean  by  calling 
me  old  ?  He  must  be  blind,  I  thought,  or  in  his  dotage. 
Suddenly  he  looked  up. 

"  Talking  of  the  plague,"  he  said,  "  it  is  not  always  wise. 
It  did  a  foolish  thing  yesterday — a  very  foolish  thing.  It 
took  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  neighborhood,  young  too, 
strong  and  brave  ;  looked  as  if  he  would  never  die.  The 
plague  touched  him  in  the  morning — before  sunset  he  was 
nailed  up  and  put  down  in  his  big  family  vault — a  cold  lodg- 
ing, and  less  handsomely  furnished  than  his  grand  marble 
villa  on  the  heights  yonder.  When  I  heard  the  news  I  told 
the  Madonna  she  was  wicked.  Oh,  yes  !  I  rated  her  soundly ; 
she  is  a  woman,  and  capricious  ;  a  good  scolding  brings  her  to 
reason.  Look  you  !  I  am  a  friend  to  God  and  the  plague, 
but  they  both  did  a  stupid  thing  when  they  took  Count  Fabio 
Romani." 

I  started,  but  quickly  controlled  myself  into  an  appearance 
of  indifference. 

"  Indeed  !  "  I  said,  carelessly.  "  And  pray  who  was  he 
that  he  should  not  deserve  to  die  as  well  as  other  peo- 
ple?" 

The  old  man  raised  himself  from  his  stooping  attitude, 
and  stared  at  me  with  his  keen  black  eyes. 

"  Who  was  he  ?  who  was  he  ? "  he  cried,  in  a  shrill  tone. 
"  Oh,  he !  One  can  see  you  know  nothing  of  Naples.  You 
have  not  heard  of  the  rich  Romani  ?  See  you,  I  wished  him 
to  live.  He  was  clever  and  bold,  but  I  did  not  grudge  him 
that — no,  he  was  good  to  the  poor ;  he  gave  away  hundreds 
of  francs  in  charity.  I  have  seen  him  often — I  saw  him  mar- 
ried." And  here  his  parchment  face  screwed  itself  into 
an  expression  of  the  most  malignant  cruelty.  "  Pah  !  I 
hate  his  wife — a  fair,  soft  thing,  like  a  white  snake  !  I  used 
to  watch  them  both  from  the  corners  of  the  streets  as  they 
drove  along  in  their  fine  carriage,  and  I  wondered  how  it 
would  all  end,  whether  he  or  she  would  gain  the  victory  first. 
I  wanted  him  to  win ;  I  would  have  helped  him  to  kill  her, 
yes  !  But  the  saints  have  made  a  mistake  this  time,  for  he 


40  VENDETTA! 

is  dead,  and  that  she-devil  has  all.  Oh,  yes  I  God  and  the 
plague  have  .done  a  foolish  thing  for  once." 

I  listened  to  the  old  wretch  with  deepening  aversion,  yet 
with  some  curiosity  too.  Why  should  he  hate  my  wife  ?  I 
thought,  unless,  indeed,  he  hated  all  youth  and  beauty,  as 
was  probably  the  case.  And  if  he  had  seen  me  as  often  as 
he  averred  he  must  know  me  by  sight.  How  was  it  then 
that  he  did  not  recognize  me  now  ?  Following  out  this 
thought,  I  said  aloud  : 

"  What  sort  of  looking  man  was  this  Count  Romani  ?  You 
say  he  was  handsome — was  he  tall  or  short — dark  or  fair  ?  " 

Putting  back  his  straggling  gray  locks  from  his  forehead,  the 
dealer  stretched  out  a  yellow,  claw-like  hand,  as  though 
pointing  to  some  distant  vision. 

"  A  beautiful  man  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  a  man  good  for  the 
eyes  to  see  !  As  straight  as  you  are  ! — as  tall  as  you  are ! — 
as  broad  as  you  are  !  But  your  eyes  are  sunken  and  dim^ 
his  were  full  and  large  and  sparkling.  Your  face  is  drawn 
and  pale — his  was  of  a  clear  olive  tint,  round  and  flushed  with 
health  ;  and  his  hair  was  glossy  black — ah  !  as  jet-black,  my 
friend,  as  yours  is  snow-white  !  " 

I  recoiled  from  these  last  words  in  a  sort  of  terror  ;  they  were 
like  an  electric  shock  !  Was  I  indeed  so  changed  ?  Was  it 
possible  that  the  horrors  of  a  night  in  the  vault  had  made 
such  a  dire  impression  upon  me  ?  My  hair  white  ? — mine  I  I 
could  hardly  believe  it.  If  so,  perhaps  Nina  would  not  rec- 
ognize me — she  might  be  terrified  at  my  aspect — Guido 
himself  might  have  doubts  of  my  identity.  Though,  for  that 
matter,  I  could  easily  prove  myself  to  be  indeed  Fabio 
Romani — even  if  I  had  to  show  the  vault  and  my  own  sun- 
dered coffin.  While  I  revolved  all  this  in  my  mind  the  old  man, 
unconscious  of  my  emotion,  went  on  with  his  mumbling  chatter. 

"  Ah,  yes,  yes !  He  was  a  fine  fellow — a  strong  fellow.  I 
used  to  rejoice  that  he  was  so  strong.  He  could  have  taken 
the  little  throat  of  his  wife  between  finger  and  thumb  aad 
nipped  it — so  !  and  she  would  have  told  no  more  lies.  I 
wanted  him  to  do  it — I  waited  for  it.  He  would  have  done 
it  surely,  had  he  lived.  That  is  why  I  am  sorry  he  died." 

Mastering  my  feelings  by  a  violent  effort,  I  forced  myself 
to  speak  calmly  to  this  malignant  old  brute. 

"  Why  do  you  hate  the  Countess  Romani  so  much  ?  "  I 
asked  him  with  sternness.  "  Has  she  done  you  any  harm  ? " 

He  straightened  himself  as  much,  &>  k%  was  able  and  looked 
gie  full  in  the  eyes, 


VENDETTA !  41 

"  See  you !  *  he  answered,  with  a  sort  of  leering  laugh 
about  the  corners  of  his  wicked  mouth.  "  I  will  tell  you  why 
I  hate  her — yes — I  will  tell  you,  because  you  are  a  man  and 
strong.  I  like  strong  men — they  are  sometimes  fooled  by 
women,  it  is  true — but  then  they  can  take  revenge.  I  was 
strong  myself  once.  And  you — you  are  old — but  you  love  a 
jest — you  will  understand  The  Romani  woman  has  done 
me  no  harm.  She  laughed — once.  That  was  when  her 
horses  knocked  me  down  in  the  street.  I  was  hurt — but  I 
saw  her  red  lips  widen  and  her  white  teeth  glitter — she  has 
a  baby  smile — the  people  will  tell  you — so  innocent !  I  was 
picked  up — her  carriage  drove  on — her  husband  was  not  with 
her — he  would  have  acted  differently.  But  it  is  no  matter — 
I  tell  you  she  laughed — and  then  I  saw  at  once  the  likeness." 

"  The  likness  !  "  I  exclaimed  impatiently,  for  his  story  an- 
noyed me.  "  What  likeness  ?  " 

"  Between  her  and  my  wife,"  the  dealer  replied,  fixing  his 
cruel  eyes  upon  me  with  increasing  intensity  of  regard.  "  Oh, 
yes  !  I  know  what  love  is.  I  know  too  that  God  had  very 
little  to  do  with  the  making  of  women.  It  was  a  long  time 
before  even  He  could  find  the  Madonna.  Yes — yes,  I  know  ! 
I  tell  you  I  married  a  thing  as  beautiful  as  a  morning  in 
spring-time — with  a  little  head  that  seemed  to  droop  like  a 
flower  under  its  weight  of  sunbeam  hair — and  eyes  !  ah — like 
those  of  a  tiny  child  when  it  looks  up  and  asks  you  for  kisses. 
M!  was  absent  once — I  returned  and  found  her  sleeping  tran- 
quilly— yes !  on  the  breast  of  a  black-browed  street-singer 
from  Venice — a  handsome  lad  enough  and  brave  as  a  young 
lion.  He  saw  me  and  sprung  at  my  throat-*— Hield  him  down 
and  knelt  upon  his  chest — she  woke  and  gazed  upon  us,  too 
terrified  to  speak  or  scream — she  only  shivered  and  made  a 
little  moaning  sound  like  that  of  a  spoiled  baby.  I  looked 
down  into  her  prostrate  lover's  eyes  and  smiled.  *  I  will 
not  hurt  you/  I  said.  *  Had  she  not  consented,  you  could 
not  have  gained  the  victory.  All  I  ask  of  you  is  to  remain 
here  for  a  few  moments  longer.'  He  stared,  but  was  mute. 
I  bound  him  hand  and  foot  so  that  he  could  not  stir.  Then 
I  took  my  knife  and  went  to  her.  Her  blue  eyes  glared  wide 
— imploringly  she  turned  them  upon  me — and  ever  she  wrung 
her  small  hands  and  shivered  and  moaned.  I  plunged  the 
keen  bright  blade  deep  through  her  soft  white  flesh — her 
lover  cried  out  in  agony — her  heart's  blood  welled  up  in  a 
crimson  tide,  staining  with  a  bright  hue  the  white  garments, 
she  wore  ;  she  flung  up  her  arms — she  sank  back  08  k$r  pil* 


4t 

lows — dead.  I  drew  the  knife  from  her  body,  and  with  it 
cut  the  bonds  of  the  Venetian  boy.  I  then  gave  it  to  him. 

"'Take  it  as  a  remembrance  of  her,'  I  said.  'In  a 
month  she  would  have  betrayed  you  as  she  betrayed  me. ' ' 

He  raged  like  a  madman.  He  rushed  out  and  called  the 
gendarmes.  Of  course  I  was  tried  for  murder — but  it  \\.is 
not  murder — it  was  justice.  The  judge  found  extenuating  cir- 
cumstances. Naturally!  He  had  a  wife  of  his  own.  He 
understood  my  case.  Now  you  know  why  I  hate  that  dainty 
jeweled  woman  up  at  the  Villa  Romani.  She  is  just  like  that 
other  one — that  creature  I  slew — she  has  just  the  same  slow 
smile  and  the  same  child-like  eyes.  I  tell  you  again,  I  am 
sorry  her  husband  is  dead — it  vexes  me  sorely  to  think  of  it. 
For  he  would  have  killed  her  in  time — yes ! — of  that  I  am 
quite  sure  !  " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

I  LISTENED  to  his  narrative  with  a  pained  feeling  at  my 
heart,  and  a  shuddering  sensation  as  of  icy  cold  ran  through 
my  veins.  Why,  I  had  fancied  that  all  who  beheld  Nina 
must,  perforce,  love  and  admire  her.  True,  when  this  old 
man  was  accidentally  knocked  down  by  her  horses  (a  cir- 
cumstance she  had  never  mentioned  to  me),  it  was  careless 
of  her  not  to  stop  and  make  inquiry  as  to  the  extent  of  his 
injuries,  but  she  was  young  and  thoughtless ;  she  could  not 
be  intentionally  heartless.  I  was  horrified  to  think  that  she 
should  have  made  such  an  enemy  as  even  this  aged  and 
poverty-stricken  wretch ;  but  I  said  nothing.  I  had  no  wish 
to  betray  myself.  He  waited  for  me  to  speak  and  grew  im- 
patient at  my  silence. 

"  Say  now,  my  friend !  "  he  queried,  with  a  sort  of  childish 
eagerness,  "  did  I  not  take  a  good  vengeance  ?  God  himself 
could  not  have  done  better !  " 

"  I  think  your  wife  deserved  her  fate,"  I  said,  curtly,  "  but 
I  cannot  say  I  admire  you  for  being  her  murderer." 

He  turned  upon  me  rapidly,  throwing  both  hands  above 
his  head  with  a  frantic  gesticulation.  His  voice  rose  to  a 
kind  of  muffled  shriek. 

"  Murderer  you  call  me — ha  !  ha  !  that  is  good.  No,  no ! 
She  murdered  me  I  I  tell  you  I  died  when  I  saw  her  asleep 
in  her  lover's  arms — she  killed  me  at  one  blow.  A  devil 
rose  up  in  my  body  and  took  swif.t  revenge ;  that  devil  is  in 


VENDETTA!  4$ 

me  now,  a  brave  devil,  a  strong  devil !  That  is  why  I  do  not 
fear  the  plague ;  the  devil  in  me  frightens  away  death.  Some 
day  it  will  leave  me  " — here  his  smothered  yell  sunk  gradually 
to  a  feeble,  weary  tone  ;  "yes,  it  will  leave  me  and  I  shall 
find  a  dark  place  where  I  can  sleep ;  I  do  not  sleep  much 
now."  He  eyed  me  half  wistfully. 

"  You  see,"  he  explained,  almost  gently,  "  my  memory  is 
very  good,  and  when  one  thinks  of  many  things  one  cannot 
sleep.  It  is  many  years  ago,  but  every  night  I  see  her  ;  she 
comes  to  me  wringing  her  little  white  hands,  her  blue  eyes 
stare,  I  hear  short  moans  of  terror.  Every  night,  every 
night !  "  He  paused,  and  passed  his  hands  in  a  bewildered 
way  across  his  forehead.  Then,  like  a  man  suddenly  wak- 
ing from  sleep,  he  stared  as  though  he  saw  me  now  for  the 
first  time,  and  broke  into  a  low  chuckling  laugh. 

"  What  a  thing,  what  a  thing  it  is,  the  memory !  "  he  mut- 
tered. "  Strange — strange  !  See,  I  remembered  all  that, 
and  forgot  you  !  But  I  know  what  you  want — a  suit  of 
clothes — yes,  you  need  them  badly,  and  I  also  need  the 
money  for  them.  Ha,  ha  !  And  you  will  not  have  the  fine 
coat  of  Milord  Inglese  !  No,  no  !  I  understand.  I  will  find 
you  something — patience,  patience  !  " 

And  he  began  to  grope  among  a  number  of  things  that 
were  thrown  in  a  confused  heap  at  the  back  of  the  shop. 
While  in  this  attitude  he  looked  so  gaunt  and  grim  that  he 
reminded  me  of  an  aged  vulture  stooping  over  carrion,  and 
yet  there  was  something  pitiable  about  him  too.  In  a  way  I 
was  sorry  for  him  ;  a  poor  half-witted  wretch,  whose  life  had 
been  full  of  such  gall  and  wormwood.  What  a  different  fate 
was  his  to  .mine,  I  thought,  /had  endured  but  one  short 
night  of  agony ;  how  trifling  it  seemed  compared  to  his 
hourly  remorse  and  suffering !  He  hated  Nina  for  an  act  of 
thoughtlessness  ;  well,  no  doubt  she  was  not  the  only  woman 
whose  existence  annoyed  him  ;  it  was  most  probable  that  he 
was  at  enmity  with  all  women.  I  watched  him  pityingly  as 
he  searched  among  the  worn-out  garments  which  were  his 
stock-in-trade,  and  wondered  why  Death,  so  active  in  smiting 
down  the  strongest  in  the  city,  should  have  thus  cruelly 
passed  by  this  forlorn  wreck  of  human  misery,  for  whom  the 
grave  would  have  surely  been  a  most  welcome  release  and 
rest.  He  turned  round  at  last  with  an  exulting  gesture. 

"  I  have  found  it !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  The  very  thing  to 
suit  you.  You  are  perhaps  a  coral-fisher  ?  You  will  like  a 
fisherman's  dress,  Here  is  one,  red  sash,  cap  and  all,  in 


44  VENDETTA! 

beautiful  condition  !  He  that  wore  it  was  about  you! 
height ;  it  will  fit  you  as  well  as  it  fitted  him  ;  and,  look  you  i 
the  plague  is  not  in  it ;  the  sea  has  soaked  through  and 
through  it ;  it  smells  of  the  sand  and  weed." 

He  spread  out  the  rough  garb  before  me.  I  glanced  at  it 
carelessly. 

"  Did  the  former  wearer  kill  his  wife? "  I  asked,  with  a 
slight  smile. 

The  old  rag-picker  shook  his  head  and  made  a  sign  with 
his  outspread  fingers  expressive  of  contempt. 

"  Not  he  !— He  was  a  fool.     He  killed  himself." 

"  How  was  that  ?     By  accident  or  design  ?  " 

"  CJti  !  Che  /  He  knew  very  well  what  he  was  doing.  It 
happened  only  two  months  since.  It  was  for  the  sake  of  a 
black-ey/d  jade;  she  lives  and  laughs  all  daylong  up  at  Sor- 
rento. \JilQ  had  been  on  a  long  voyage ;  he  brought  her 
pearls  for  her  throat  and  coral  pins  for  her  hair.  She  had 
promised  to  marry  him.  He  had  just  landed  ;  he  met  her 
on  the  quay ;  he  offered  her  the  pearl  and  coral  trinkets. 
She  threw  them  back  and  told  him  she  was  tired  of  him. 
Just  that — nothing  more.  He  tried  to  soften  her ;  she  raged 
at  him  like  a  tiger-cat.  Yes,  I  was  one  of  the  little  crowd 
that  stood  round  them  on  the  quay  ;  I  saw  it  all.  Her  black 
eyds  flashed,  she  stamped  and  bit  her  lips  at  him,  her  full 
bosom  heaved  as  though  it  would  burst  her  laced  bodice. 
She  was  only  a  market-girl,  but  she  gave  herself  the  airs  of 
a  queen.  *  I  am  tired  of  you  ! '  she  said  to  him.  *  Go  !  I 
wish  to  see  you  no  more.'  He  was  tall  and  well-made,  a 
powerful  fellow ;  but  he  staggered,  his  face  grew  pale,  his 
lips  quivered.  He  bent  his  head  a  little — turned — and  be- 
fore any  hand  could  stop  him  he  sprung  from  the  edge  of 
the  quay  into  the  waves ;  they  closed  over  his  head,  for  he 
did  not  try  to  swim  ;  he  just  sunk  down,  down,  like  a  stone. 
Next  day  his  body  came  ashore,  and  I  bought  his  clothes 
for  two  francs ;  you  shall  have  them  for  four." 

"  And  what  became  of  the  girl  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  she  /  She  laughs  all  day  long,  as  I  told  you.  She 
has  a  new  lover  every  week.  What  should  she  care  ?  " 

I  drew  out  my  purse.  "  I  will  take  this  suit,"  I  said. 
"  You  ask  four  francs,  here  are  six,  but  for  the  extra  two 
you  nmst  show  me  some  private  corner  where  I  can  dress." 

"  Yes,  yes.  But  certainly  !  "  and  the  old  fellow  trembled 
all  over  with  avaricious  eagerness  as  I  counted  the  silver 
pieces  into  his  withered  palm.  "  Anything  to  oblige  a  genei> 


VEX D ETTA  I  45 

OUS  stranger  !  There  is  the  place  I  sleep  in  ;  it  is  not  much, 
but  there  is  a  mirror — her  mirror — the  only  thing  I  keep  of 
hers ;  come  this  way,  come  this  way  !  " 

And  stumbling  hastily  along,  almost  falling  over  the  disor- 
dered bundles  of  clothing  that  lay  about  in  all  directions,  he 
opened  a  little  door  that  seemed  to  be  cut  in  the  wall,  and 
led  me  into  a  kind  of  close  cupboard,  smelling  most  vilely, 
and  furnished  with  a  miserable  pallet  bed  and  one  broken 
chair.  A  small  square  pane  of  glass  admitted  light  enough 
to  see  all  that  there  was  to  be  seen,  and  close  to  this  ex- 
temporized window  hung  the  mirror  alluded  to,  a  beautiful 
thing  set  in  silver  of  antique  workmanship,  the  costliness  of 
which  I  at  once  recognized,  though  into  the  glass  itself  I 
dared  not  for  the  moment  look.  The  old  man  showed  me 
with  some  pride  that  the  door  to  this  narrow  den  of  his  locked 
from  within. 

"  I  made  the  lock  and  key,  and  fitted  it  all  myself,"  he 
said.  "  Look  how  neat  and  strong  !  Yes ;  I  was  clever 
once  at  all  that  work — it  was  my  trade — till  that  morning 
when  I  found  her  with  the  singer  from  Venice  ;  then  I  for- 
got all  I  used  to  know — it  went  away  somehow,  I  could  never 
understand  why.  Here  is  the  fisherman's  suit ;  you  can  take 
your  time  to  put  it  on  ;  fasten  the  door  ;  the  room  is  at  your 
service.'' 

And  he  nodded  several  times  in  a  manner  that  was  meant 
to  be  friendly,  and  left  me.  I  followed  his  advice  at  once 
and  locked  myself  in.  Then  I  stepped  steadily  to  the  mirror 
hanging  on  the  wall,  and  looked  at  my  own  reflection.  A 
bitter  pang  shot  through  me.  The  dealer's  sight  was  good, 
he  had  said  truly.  I  was  old  !  If  twenty  years  of  suffering 
had  passed  over  my  head,  they  could  hardly  have  changed 
me  more  terribly.  My  illness  had  thinned  my  face  and 
marked  it  with  deep  lines  of  pain  ;  my  eyes  had  retreated 
far  back  into  my  head,  while  a  certain  wildness  of  expres- 
sion in  them  bore  witness  to  the  terrors  I  had  suffered  in 
the  vault,  and  to  crown  all,  my  hair  was  indeed  perfectly 
white.  I  understood  now  the  alarm  of  the  man  who  had 
sold  me  grapes  on  the  highway  that  morning ;  my  appear- 
ance was  strange  enough  to  startle  any  one.  Indeed,  I 
scarcely  recognized  myself.  Would  my  wife,  would  Guido 
recognize  me  ?  Almost  I  doubted  it.  This  thought  was  so 
painful  to  me  that  the  tears  sprung  to  my  eyes.  I  brushed 
them  away  in  haste. 

M  Fy  on  thee,  Fabio  !     Be  a  man  1  "     I  said,  addressing 


4&  VENDETTA! 

myself  angrily.  "  Of  what  matter  after  all  whether  hairs  are 
black  qr  white  ?  What  matter  how  the  face  changes,  so  long 
as  the  heart  is  true  ?  For  a  moment,  perhaps,  thy  love  may 
grow  pale  at  sight  of  thee  ;  but  when  she  knows  of  thy  suffer- 
ings, wilt  thou  not  be  dearer  to  her  than  ever  ?  Will  not  one 
of  her  soft  embraces  recompense  thee  for  all  thy  past  anguish, 
and  suffice  to  make  thee  young  again  ? " 

And  thus  encouraging  my  sinking  spirits,  I  quickly  arrayed 
myself  in  the  Neapolitan  coral-fisher's  garb.  The  trousers 
were  very  loose,  and  were  provided  with  two  long  deep  pockets, 
convenient  receptacles,  which  easily  contained  the  leathern 
bags  of  gold  and  jewels  I  had  taken  from  the  brigand's  coffin. 
When  my  hasty  toilet  was  completed  I  took  another  glance  at 
the  mirror,  this  time  with  a  half  smile.  True,  I  was  greatly 
altered  ;  but  after  all  I  did  not  look  so  bad.  The  fisherman's 
picturesque  costume  became  me  well ;  the  scarlet  cap  sat  jaun- 
tily on  the  snow-white  curls  that  clustered  so  thickly  over  my 
forehead,  and  the  consciousness  I  had  of  approaching  happi- 
ness sent  a  little  of  the  old  fearless  luster  back  into  my  sunken 
eyes.  Besides,  I  knew  I  should  not  always  have  this  care-worn 
and  wasted  appearance  ;  rest,  and  perhaps  a  change  of  air, 
would  infallibly  restore  the  roundness  to  my  face  and  the  fresh- 
ness to  my  complexion  ;  even  my  white  locks  might  return  to 
their  pristine  color,  such  things  had  been  ;  and  supposing  they 
remained  white  ?  well ! — there  were  many  who  would  admire 
the  peculiar  contrast  between  a  young  man's  face  and  an  old 
man's  hair. 

Having  finished  dressing,  I  unlocked  the  door  of  the  stuffy 
little  cabin  and  called  the  old  rag-picker.  He  came  shuf- 
fling along  with  his  head  bent,  but  raising  his  eyes  as  he 
approached  me,  he  threw  up  his  hands  in  astonishment, 
exclaiming, 

"  Santissima  Madonna !  But  you  are  a  fine  man — a  fine 
man  !  Eh,  eh  !  Holy  Joseph  !  What  height  and  breadth  ! 
A  pity — a  pity  you  are  old ;  you  must  have  been  strong  when 
you  were  young !  " 

Half  in  joke,  and  half  to  humor  him  in  his  fancy  for  mere 
muscular  force,  I  rolled  up  the  sleeve  of  my  jacket  t»  the 
shoulder,  saying,  lightly, 

"  Oh,  as  for  being  strong  !  There  is  plenty  of  strength  in 
me  still,  you  see." 

He  stared  ;  laid  his  yellow  fingers  on  my  bared  arm  with 
a  kind  of  ghoul-like  interest  and  wonder,  and  fe\t  the  muscles 
of  it  with  childish,  almost  maudlin  admiration 


VENDETTA!  4} 

"Beautiful,  beautiful!"  he  mumbled.  "Like  iron— just 
think  of  it !  Yes,  yes.  You  could  kill  anything  easily.  Ah  ! 
I  used  to  be  like  that  once.  I  was  clever  at  sword-play.  I 
could,  with  well-tempered  steel,  cut  asunder  a  seven-times- 
folded  piece  of  silk  at  one  blow  without  fraying  out  a  thread. 
Yes,  as  neatly  as  one  cuts  butter!  You  could  do  that  too  if 
you  liked.  It  all  lies  in  the  arm — the  brave  arm  that  kills  at 
a  single  stroke." 

And  he  gazed  at  me  intently  with  his  small  blear  eyes  as 
though  anxious  to  know  more  of  my  character  and  tempera- 
ment. I  turned  abruptly  from  him,  and  called  his  attention 
to  my  own  discarded  garments. 

"  See/'  I  said,  carelessly  ;  "  you  can  have  these,  though 
they  are  not  of  much  value.  And,  stay,  here  are  another 
three  francs  for  some  socks  and  shoes,  which  I  dare  say  you 
can  find  to  suit  me." 

He  clasped  his  hands  ecstatically,  and  poured  out  a  torrent 
of  thanks  and  praises  for  this  additional  and  unexpected  sum, 
and  protesting  by  all  the  saints  that  he  and  the  entire  contents 
of  his  shop  were  at  the  service  of  so  generous  a  stranger,  he 
at  once  produced  the  articles  I  asked  for.  I  put  them  on — 
and  then  stood  up  thoroughly  equipped  and  ready  to  make 
my  way  back  to  my  own  home  when  I  chose.  But  I  had  re- 
solved on  one  thing.  Seeing  that  I  was  so  greatly  changed, 
I  determined  not  to  go  to  the  Villa  Romani  by  daylight,  lest  I 
should  startle  my  wife  too  suddenly.  Women  are  delicate  ; 
my  unexpected  appearance  might  give  her  a  nervous  shock 
which  perhaps  would  have  serious  results.  I  would  wait  till 
the  sun  had  set,  and  then  go  up  to  the  house  by  a  back  way 
I  knew  of,  and  try  to  get  speech  with  one  of  the  servants.  I 
might  even  meet  my  friend  Guido  Ferrari,  and  he  would 
break  the  joyful  news  of  my  return  from  death  to  Nina  by 
degrees,  and  also  prepare  her  for  my  altered  looks.  While 
these  thoughts  flitted  rapidly  through  my  bram,  the  old  rag- 
picker stood  near  me  with  his  head  on  one  side  like  a  medi- 
tative raven,  and  regarded  me  intently. 

"  Are  you  going  far  ? "  he  asked  at  last,  with  a  kind  of 
timidity. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  him,  abruptly ;  "  very  far." 

He  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  my  sleeve,  and  his  eyes  glit- 
tered with  a  malignant  expression. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  muttered,  eagerly,  "  tell  me — I  will  keep 
the  secret.  Are  you  going  to  a  woman  ?  " 


4*  VENDETTA! 

I  looked  down  upon  him,  half  in  disdain,  half  in  amusement 
"  Yes  !  "  1  said,  quietly ;  "  I  am  going  to  a  woman." 
He  broke  into  silent  laughter — hideous  laughter  that  con- 
torted his  visage  and  twisted  his  body  in  convulsive  writh- 
ings. 

I  glanced  at  him  in  disgust,  and  shaking  off  his  hand  from 
my  arm,  I  made  my  way  to  the  door  of  the  shop.  He  hobbled 
quickly  after  me,  wiping  away  the  moisture  that  his  inward 
merriment  had  brought  into  his  eyes. 

"  Going  to  a  woman  !  "  he  croaked.  "  Ha,  ha  !  You  are 
not  the  first,  nor  will  you  be  the  last,  that  has  gone  so  !  Going 
to  a  woman  !  that  is  well — that  is  good  !  Go  to  her,  go  !  You 
are  strong  ;  you  have  a  brave  arm  !  Go  to  her  ;  find  her  out, 
and — kill  her  /  Yes,  yes — you  will  be  able  to  do  it  easily — 
quite  easily !  Go  and  kill  her  !  " 

He  stood  at  his  low  door  mouthing  and  pointing,  his  stunted 
figure  and  evil  face  reminding  me  of  one  of  Heinrich  Heine's 
dwarf  devils  who  are  depicted  as  piling  fire  on  the  heads  of 
the  saints.  I  bade  him  "  Good-day  "  in  an  indifferent  tone, 
but  he  made  me  no  answer.  I  walked  slowly  away.  Look- 
ing back  once  I  saw  him  still  standing  an  the  threshold  of  his 
wretched  dwelling,  his  wicked  mouth  working  itself  into  all 
manner  of  grimaces,  while  with  his  crooked  fingers  he  made 
signs  in  the  air  as  if  he  caught  an  invisible  something  and 
throttled  it.  I  went  on  down  the  street  and  out  of  it  into 
the  broader  thoroughfares,  with  his  last  words  ringing  in  my 
ears,  "  go  and  kill  her  !" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THAT  day  seemed  very  long  to  me.  I  wandered  aimlessly 
about  the  city,  seeing  few  faces  that  I  knew,  for  the  wealthier 
inhabitants,  afraid  of  the  cholera,  had  either  left  the  place 
together  or  remained  closely  shut  within  their  own  houses 
Everywhere  I  went  something  bore  witness  to  the  terrible 
ravages  of  the  plague.  At  almost  every  corner  I  met  a  funeral 
procession.  Once  I  came  upon  a  group  of  men  who  were 
standing  in  an  open  door-way  packing  a  dead  body  into  a 
coffin  too  small  for  it.  There  was  something  truly  revolting 
in  the  way  they  doubled  up  the  arms  and  legs  and  squeezed 
in  the  shoulders  of  the  deceased  man — one  could  hear  the 
bones  crack.  I  watched  the  brutal  proceedings  for  a  minute 
or  so,  and  then  I  said  aloud : 


VENDETTA!  49 

You  had  better  make  sure  he  is  quite  dead." 
The  beccamorti  looked  at  me  in  surprise  ;  one  laughed  grimly 
and  swore.  "  By  the  body  of  God,  if  I  thought  he  were  not 
I  would  twist  his  accursed  neck  for  him  !  But  the  cholera 
never  fails,  he  is  dead  for  certain — see  !  "  And  he  knocked 
the  head  of  the  corpse  to  and  fro  against  the  sides  of  the 
coffin  with  no  more  compunction  than  if  it  had  been  a  block 
of  wood.  Sickened  at  the  sight,  I  turned  away  and  said  no 
more.  On  reaching  one  of  the  more  important  thoroughfares 
I  perceived  several  knots  of  people  collected,  who  glanced  at 
one  another  with  eager  yet  shamed  faces,  and  spoke  in  low 
voices.  A  whisper  reached  my  ears,  "  The  king  !  the  king  !  " 
All  heeds  were  turned  in  one  direction  •,  I  paused  and  looked 
also.  Walking  at  a  leisurely  pace,  accompanied  by  £  few 
gentlemen  of  earnest  mien  and  grave  deportment,  I  saw  the 
fearless  monarch,  Humbert  of  Italy — he  whom  his  subjects 
delight  to  honor.  He  was  making  a  round  of  visits  to  all  the 
vilest  holes  and  corners  of  the  city,  where  the  plague  raged 
most  terribly;  he  had  not  so  much  as  a  cigarette  in  his  mouth 
to  ward  off  infection.  He  walked  with  the  easy  and  assured 
Step  of  a  hero ;  his  face  was  somewhat  sad,  as  though  the 
sufferings  of  his  people  had  pressed  heavily  upon  his  sympa- 
thetic heart.  I  bared  my  head  reverently  as  he  passed,  his 
keen  kind  eyes  lighted  on  me  with  a  smile. 

"  A  subject  for  a  painting,  yon  white-haired  fisherman  ! " 
I  heard  him  say  to  one  of  his  attendants.  Almost  I  betrayed 
myself.  I  was  on  the  point  of  springing  forward  and  throw- 
ing myself  at  his  feet  to  tell  him  my  story.  It  seemed  to  me 
both  cruel  and  unnatural  that  he>  my  beloved  sovereign, 
should  pass  me  without  recognition — me,  to  whom  he  had 
spoken  so  often  and  so  cordially.  For  when  I  visited  Rome, 
as  I  was  accustomed  to  do  annually,  there  were  few  more 
welcome  guests  at  the  balls  of  the  Quirinal  Palace  than  Count 
Fabio  Romani.  I  began  to  wonder  stupidly  who  Fabio 
Romani  was  ;  the  gay  gallant  known  as  such  seemed  no 
longer  to  have  any  existence — a  "  white-haired  fisherman  " 
usurped  his  place.  But  though  I  thought  these  things  I 
refrained  from  addressing  the  king.  Some  impulse,  how- 
ever, led  me  to  follow  him  at  a  respectful  distance,  as  did 
also  many  others.  His  majesty  strolled  through  the  most 
pestilential  streets  with  as  much  unconcern  as  though  he 
were  taking  his  pleasure  in  a  garden  of  roses ;  he  stepped 
quietly  into  the  dirtiest  hovels  where  lay  both  dead  and  dy- 
ing ;  he  spoke  words  of  kindly  encouragement  to  the  griei- 
4 


50  VENDETTA! 

stricken  and  terrified  mourners,  who  stared  through  their 
tears  at  the  monarch  with  astonishment  and  gratitude  ;  silver 
and  gold  were  gently  dropped  into  the  hands  of  the  suffering 
poor,  and  the  very  pressing  cases  received  the  royal  bene- 
factor's personal  attention  and  immediate  relief.  Mothers 
with  infants  in  their  arms  knelt  to  implore  the  king's  blessing 
— which  to  pacify  them  he  gave  with  a  modest  hesitation,  as 
though  he  thought  himself  unworthy,  and  yet  with  a  pa- 
rental tenderness  that  was  infinitely  touching.  One  wild- 
eyed,  black-haired  girl  flung  herself  down  on  the  ground  right 
in  the  king's  path ;  ,she  kissed  his  feet,  and  then  sprung  erect 
with  a  gesture  of  triumph. 

"  I  am  saved  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  the  plague  cannot  walk  in 
the  same  road  with  the  king  !  " 

Humbert  smiled,  and  regarded  her  somewhat  as  an  indul- 
gent father  might  regard  a  spoiled  daughter;  but  he  said 
nothing,  and  passed  on.  A  cluster  of  men  and  women  stand- 
ing at  the  open  door  of  one  of  the  poorest-looking  houses  in 
the  street  next  attracted  the  monarch's  attention.  There 
was  some  noisy  argument  going  on  ;  two  or  three  becca- 
morti  were  loudly  discussing  together  and  swearing  pro- 
fusely— some  women  were  crying  bitterly,  and  in  the  center 
of  the  excited  group  a  coffin  stood  on  end  as  though  waiting 
for  an  occupant.  One  of  the  gentlemen  in  attendance  on 
the  king  preceded  him  and  announced  his  approach,  where- 
upon the  loud  clamor  of  tongues  ceased,  the  men  bared  their 
heads,  and  the  women  checked  their  sobs. 

"  What  is  wrong  here,  my  friends  ? "  the  monarch  asked 
with  exceeding  gentleness. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment ;  the  beceamorti  looked 
sullen  and  ashamed.  Then  one  of  the  women,  with  a  fat 
good-natured  face  and  eyes  rimmed  redly  round  with  weep- 
ing, elbowed  her  way  through  the  little  throng  to  the  front 
and  spoke. 

"  May  the  Holy  Virgin  and  saints  bless  your  majesty ! " 
she  cried,  in  shrill  accents.  "  And  as  for  what  is  wrong,  it 
would  soon  be  right  if  those  shameless  pigs,"  pointing  to 
the  beceamorti,  "  would  let  us  alone.  They  would  kill  a  man 
rather  than  wait  an  hour — one  little  hour !  The  girl  is  dead, 
your  majesty — and  Giovanni,  poor  lad!  will  not  leave  her; 
he  has  his  two  arms  round  her  tight — Holy  Virgin  ! — think 
of  it !  and  she  a  cholera  corpse — and  do  what  we  can,  he> 
will  not  be  pai  ted  from  her,  and  they  seek  her  body  for  the 
burial.  And  if  we  force  him  away,/0zw/«0,  he  will  lose  his 


VENDETTA!  51 

head  for  certain.  One  little  hour,  your  majesty,  just  one, 
and  the  reverend  father  will  come  and  persuade  Giovanni 
better  than  we  can." 

The  king  raised  his  hand  with  a  slight  gesture  of  command 
—  the  little  crowd  parted  before  him  —  and  he  entered  the  mis- 
erable dwelling  wherein  lay  the  corpse  that  was  the  cause  of 
all  the  argument.  His  attendants  followed  ;  I,  too,  availed 
myself  of  a  corner  in  the  doorway.  The  scene  disclosed  was 
so  terribly  pathetic  that  few  could  look  upon  it  without  emo- 
tion —  Humbert  of  Italy  himself  uncovered  his  head  and  stood 
silent.  On  a  poor  pallet  bed  lay  the  fair  body  of  a  girl  in 
her  first  youth,  her  tender  loveliness  as  yet  untouched  even 
by  the  disfiguring  marks  of  the  death  that  had  overtaken  her. 
One  would  have  thought  she  slept,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
rigidity  of  her  stiffened  limbs,  and  the  wax-like  pallor  of  her 
face  and  hands.  Right  across  her  form,  almost  covering  it 
from  view,  a  man  lay  prone,  as  though  he  had  fallen  there 
lifeless  —  indeed  he  might  have  been  dead  also  for  any  sign 
he  showed  to  the  contrary.  His  arms  were  closed  firmly 
round  the  girl's  corpse  —  his  face  was  hidden  from  view  on 
the  cold  breast  that  would  no  more  respond  to  the  warmth 
of  his  caresses.  A  straight  beam  of  sunlight  shot  like  a 
golden  spear  into  the  dark  little  room  and  lighted  up  the 
whole  scene  —  the  prostrate  figures  on  the  bed  —  the  erect 
form  of  the  compassionate  king,  and  the  grave  and  anxious 
faces  of  the  little  crowd  of  people  who  stood  around  him. 

"  See  !  that  is  the  way  he  has  been  ever  since  last  night 
when  she  died,"  whispered  the  woman  who  had  before  spoken  ; 
"  and  his  hands  are  clinched  round  her  like  iron  —  one  can- 
not move  a  finger  !  " 

The  king  advanced.  He  touched  the  shoulder  of  the  un- 
happy lover.  His  voice,  modulated  to  an  exquisite  softness, 
struck  on  the  ears  of  the  listeners  like  a  note  of  cheerful 
music. 


There  was  no  answer.  The  women,  touched  by  the  simple 
endearing  words  of  the  monarch,  began  to  sob  though  gently, 
and  even  the  men  brushed  a  few  drops  from  their  eyes. 
Again  the  king  spoke. 

"  Figlio  mio  !  I  am  your  king.  Have  you  no  greeting  for 
me?" 

The  man  raised  his  head  from  its  pillow  on  the  breast  of 
the  beloved  corpse  and  stared  vacantly  at  the  royal  speaker. 
His  haggard  face,  tangled  hair,  and  wild  eyes  gave  him  the 


51  VENDETTA! 

appearance  of  one  who  hai  long  wandered  in  a  labyrinth  of 
frightful  visions  from  which  there  was  no  escape  but  self- 
murder. 

"  Your  hand,  my  son  ! ''  resumed  th  king  in  a  tone  of  sol- 
dier-like authority. 

Very  slowly — very  reluctantly — as  though  he  were  forced 
to  the  action  by  some  strange  magneti  influence  which  he 
had  no  power  to  withstand,  he  loosened  his  right  arm  from 
the  dead  form  it  clasped  so  pertinaciously,  and  stretched 
forth  the  hand  as  commanded.  Humbert  caught  it  firmly 
within  his  own  and  held  it  fast — then  looking  the  poor 
fellow  full  in  the  face,  he  said  with  grave  steadiness  and 
simplicity, 

"  There  is  no  death  in  love,  my  friend  !  " 

The  young  man's  eyes  met  his — his  set  mouth  softened — 
and  wresting  his  hand  passionately  from  that  of  the  king,  he 
broke  ito  a  passion  of  weeping.  Humbert  at  once  placed 
a  protecting  arm  around  h:'m,  and  with  the  assistance  of  one 
of  his  attendants  raised  him  from  the  bed,  and  led  him  un- 
resistingly away,  as  passively  obedient  as  a  child,  though  sob- 
bing convulsively  as  he  went.  The  rush  of  tears  had  saved  his 
reasor ,  and  most  probably  his  life.  A  murmur  of  enthu  iastic 
applause  greeted  the  good  king  as  he  passed  through  the 
little  throng  of  persons  who  had  witnessed  what  had  taken 
place.  Acknowledging  it  with  a  quiet  unaffected  bow,  he 
left  the  house,  and  signed  to  the  beccamorti,  who  still  waited 
outside,  that  they  were  now  free  to  perform  their  melancholy 
office.  He  then  went  on  his  way  attended  by  more  heart- 
felt blessinf s  and  praises  than  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  the 
proudest  conqueror  returning  with  the  spoils  of  a  hundred 
battles.  I  looked  after  his  retreating  figure  till  I  could  see 
it  no  more — I  felt  that  I  had  grown  stronger  for  the  mere 
presence  of  a  hero — a  man  who  indeed  was  "  every  inch  a 
king."  I  am  a  royalist — yes.  Governed  by  such  a  sovereign, 
few  men  of  calm  reason  would  be  otherwise.  But  royalist 
though  I  am,  I  would  assist  in  bringing  about  the  dethrone- 
ment and  death  of  a  mean  tyrant,  were  he  crowned  king  a 
hundred  times  over!  Few  monarchs  are  like  Humbert  of 
Italy — even  now  my  heart  warms  when  I  think  of  him — in 
all  the  distraction  of  my  sufferings,  his  figure  stands  out  like 
a  supreme  embodied  Beneficent  Force  surrounded  by  the 
clear  light  of  unselfish  goodness — a  light  in  which  Italia  suns 
her  fair  face  and  smiles  again  with  the  old  sweet  smile  of 
ker  happiest  days  of  high  achievement — days  in  which  her 


VENDETTA!  53 

children  were  great,  simply  because  they  were  earnest.  The 
fault  of  all  modern  labor  lies  in  th^  fact  that  there  is  no  heart 
in  anything  we  do — we  seldom  love  our  work  for  work's  sake 
— we  perform  it  solely  for  what  we  can  get  by  it.  Therein 
lies  the  secret  of  failure.  Friends  will  scarcely  serve  each 
other  unless  they  can  also  serve  their  own  interests — true, 
there  are  exceptions  to  this  rule,  but  they  are  deemed  fools 
for  their  pains. 

As  soon  as  the  king  disappeared  I  also  left  the  scene  of 
the  foregoing  incident.  I  had  a  fancy  to  visit  the  little  res- 
taurant where  I  had  been  taken  ill,  and  after  some  trouble 
I  found  it  The  door  stood  open.  I  saw  the  fat  landlord, 
Pietro,  polishing  his  glasses  as  though  he  had  never  left  off ; 
and  there  in  the  same  corner  was  the  very  wooden  bench  on 
which  I  had  lain — where  I  had — as  was  generally  supposed 
— died.  I  stepped  in.  The  landlord  looked  up  and  bade 
me  good-day.  I  returned  his  salutation,  and  ordered  some 
coffee  and  rolls  of  bread  Seating  myself  carelessly  at  one 
of  the  little  tables  I  turned  over  the  newspaper,  while  he 
bustled  about  in  haste  to  serve  me.  As  he  dusted  and 
rubbed  up  a  cup  and  saucer  for  my  use,  he  said,  briskly, 

"  You  have  had  a  long  voyage,  amico  ?  And  successful 
fishing  ?  " 

For  a  moment  I  was  confused  and  knew  not  what  to  an- 
swer, but  gathering  my  wits  together  I  smiled  and  answered 
readily  in  the  affirmative. 

"  And  you  ?  "  I  said,  gayly.     "  How  goes  the  cholera  ? " 

The  landlord  shook  his  head  dolefully. 

"  Holy  Joseph  !  do  not  speak  of  it.  The  people  die  like 
flies  in  a  honey-pot.  Only  yesterday — body  of  Bacchus ! — 
who  would  have  thought  it  ?  " 

And  he  sighed  deeply  as  he  poured  out  the  steaming 
coffee,  and  shook  his  head  more  sorrowfully  than  before. 

"  Why,  what  happened  yesterday  ? "  I  asked,  though  I  knew 
peafectly  well  what  he  was  going  to  say  ;  "  I  am  a  stranger 
in  Naples,  and  empty  of  news." 

The  perspiring  Pietro  laid  a  fat  thumb  on  the  marble  top 
ot  the  table,  and  with  it  traced  a  pattern  meditatively. 

"  You  never  heard  of  the  rich  Count  Romani  ? "  he  in- 
quired. 

I  made  a  sign  in  the  negative,  and  bent  my  face  over  my 
coffee-cup. 

"  Ah,  well  !  "  he  went  on  with  a  half  groan,  "  it  does  not 
patter — there  is  no  Count  Romani  any  more.  It  is  all 


|4  VENDETTA! 

«— finished  !  But  he  was  rich — as  rich  as  the  king,  they  say 
— yet  see  how  low  the  saints  brought  him  !  Fra  Cipriano  of 
the  Benedictines  carried  him  in  here  yesterday  morning — he 
was  struck  by  the  plague — in  five  hours  he  was  dead,"  here 
the  landlord  caught  a  mosquito  and  killed  it — "  ah  !  as  dead 
as  that  zinzara!  Yes,  he  lay  dead  on  that  very  wooden 
bench  opposite  to  you.  They  buried  him  before  sunset.  It 
is  like  a  bad  dream  !  " 

I  affected  to  be  deeply  engrossed  with  the  cutting  and 
spreading  of  my  roll  and  butter. 

"  I  see  nothing  particular  about  it,"  I  said,  indifferently. 
"That  he  was  rich  is  nothing — rich  and  poor  must  die 
alike." 

"  And  that  is  true,  very  true,"  assented  Pietro,  with  another 
groan,  "for  not  all  his  property  could  save 'the  blessed  Cip- 
riano." 

I  started,  but  quickly  controlled  myself. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked,  as  carelessly  as  I  could. 
"  Are  you  talking  of  some  saint  ? " 

"  Well,  if  he  were  not  canonized  he  deserves  to  be,"  replied 
the  landlord  ;  "  I  speak  of  the  holy  Benedictine  father  who 
brought  hither  the  Count  Romani  in  a  dying  condition.  AM 
little  he  knew  how  soon  the  good  God  would  call  him  hinb 
self  !  " 

I  felt  a  sickening  sensation  at  ray  heart. 

«  Is  he  dead  ? "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Dead  as  the  martyrs  !  "  answered  Pietro.  "  He  caught 
the  plague,  I  suppose,  from  the  count,  for  he  was  bending 
over  him  to  the  last.  Ay,  and  he  sprinkled  holy  water  over 
the  corpse,  and  laid  his  own  crucifix  upon  it  in  the  coffin. 
Then  up  he  went  to  the  Villa  Romani,  taking  with  him  the 
count's  trinkets,  his  watch,  ring,  and  cigar-case — and  nothing 
would  satisfy  him  but  that  he  should  deliver  them  himself  to 
the  young  contessa,  telling  her  how  her  husband  died." 

My  poor  Nina  ! — I  thought.  "  Was  she  much  grieved  ?  "  I 
inquired,  with  a  vague  curiosity. 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  "  said  the  landlord,  shrugging  his  bulky 
shoulders.  "  The  reverend  father  said  nothing,  save  that  she 
swooned  away.  But  what  of  that  ?  Women  swoon  at  every- 
thing— from  a  mouse  to  a  corpse.  As  I  said,  the  good  Cip- 
riano attended  the  count's  burial — and  he  had  scarce  returned 
from  it  when  he  was  seized  with  the  illness.  And  this  morn- 
ing he  died  at  the  monastery — may  his  soul  rest  in  peace  !  I 
fceard  the  news  only  a*  hour  ago.  Ah  1  he  was  a  holy  map  J 


VENDETTA  t  55 

He  has  promised  me  a  warm  corner  in  Paradise,  and  I  know 
he  will  keep  his  word  as  truly  as  St.  Peter  himself." 

I  pushed  away  the  rest  of  my  meal  untasted.  The  food 
choked  me.  I  could  have  shed  tears  for  the  r.oble,  patient 
life  thus  self-sacrificed.  One  hero  the  less  in  this  world  of 
unheroic,  uninspired  persons !  I  sat  silent,  lost  in  sorrowful 
thought.  The  landlord  looked  at  me  curiously. 

"  The  coffee  does  not  please  you  ?  "  he  said  at  last.  "  You 
have  no  appetite  ? " 

I  forced  a  smile. 

"  Nay — your  words  would  take  the  edge  off  the  keenest  ap- 
petite ever  born  of  the  breath  of  the  sea.  Truly  Naples 
affords  but  sorry  entertainment  to  a  stranger ;  is  there  naught 
to  hear  but  stories  of  the  dying  and  the  dead  ? " 

Pietro  put  on  an  air  that  was  almost  apologetic. 

"  Well,  truly  !  "  he  answered,  resignedly — "  very  little  else. 
But  what  would  you,  amico  ?  It  is  the  plague  and  the  will  of 
God." 

As  he  said  the  last  words  my  gaze  was  caught  and  riveted 
by  the  figure  of  a  man  strolling  leisurely  past  the  door  of  the 
cafe.  It  was  Guido  Ferrari — my  friend  !  I  would  have 
rushed  out  to  speak  to  him — but  something  in  his  look  and 
manner  checked  the  impulse  as  it  rose  in  me.  He  was  walk- 
ing very  slowly,  smoking  a  cigar  as  he  went ;  there  was  a 
smile  on  his  face,  and  in  his  coat  he  wore  a  freshly-gathered 
rose  La  Gloire  de  France,  similar  to  those  that  grew  in  such 
profusion  on  the  upper  terrace  of  my  villa.  I  stared  at  him 
as  he  passed — my  feelings  underwent  a  kind  of  shock.  He 
looked  perfectly  happy  and  tranquil,  happier  indeed  than 
ever  I  remembered  to  have  seen  him,  and  yet — and  yet, 
according  to  his  knowledge,  I,  his  best  friend,  had  died  only 
yesterday  !  With  this  sorrow  fresh  upon  him,  he  could  smile 
like  a  man  going  to  &festa,  and  wear  a  coral-pink  rose,  which 
surely  was  no  sign  of  mourning  !  For  one  moment  I  felt 
hurt,  the  next,  I  laughed  at  my  own  sensitiveness.  After  all, 
what  of  the  smile,  what  of  the  rose  !  A  man  could  not  always 
be  answerable  for  the  expression  of  his  countenance,  and  as 
for  the  flower,  he  might  have  gathered  it  en  passent,  without 
thinking,  or  what  was  still  more  likely,  the  child  Stella  might 
have  given  it  to  him,  in  which  case  he  would  have  worn  it  to 
please  her.  He  displayed  no  badge  of  mourning  ?  True  ! — 
but  then  consider — I  had  only  died  yesterday  !  There  had 
been  no  time  to  procure  all  those  outward  appurtenances  of 
woe  which  social  customs  rendered  necessary,  but  which  wer$ 


56  VENDETTA: 

no  infallible  s'^n  of  the  heart's  sincerity.  Satisfied  with  ray 
o\in  self-r -asoning  I  »rade  no  attempt  to  follow  Guido  in  his 
walk — I  let  h  n*  g  >  •  n  h;s  w<.y  unconsci  ''is  of  my  existence.  I 
would  wait,  I  thougl  t,  all  *,r.e  evening — then  everything  would 
be  explained. 

I  tur  ed  to  the  landlord.     "  How  much  to  pay  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  What  you  will,  amico"  he  replied — "  I  am  never  hard  on 
the  fisher  folk — but  times  are  bad,  or  you  would  be  welcome 
to  a  breakfast  for  nothing.  Many  and  many  a  day  have  I 
done  as  much  for  men  of  your  craft,  and  the  blessed  Cipriano 
who  is  gone  used  to  say  that  St.  Peter  would  remember  me 
for  it.  It  is  true  the  Madonna  gives  a  special  blessing  if  one 
looks  after  the  fishers,  because  all  the  holy  apostles  were  of 
the  trade ;  and  I  would  be  loth  to  lose  her  protection — 
yet—" 

I  laughed  and  tossed  him  a  franc.  He  pocketed  it  at  once 
and  his  eyes  twinkled 

"  Though  y  u  have  not  taken  half  a  franc's  worth,"  he  ad- 
mitted, with  an  ho  esty  very  unusual  a  a  Neapolitan — "  but 
the  saints  will  mak  it  up  to  you,  n^ver  fear  !  " 

"  I  am  sure  Ox  tha  '  '  I  said  gayly,  *  Addio,  my  friend ! 
Prosperity  t  you  nd  ou  Lady's  fa  .ror  ; 

This  salutation,  \vh  ch  I  knew  to  bj  a  common  one  with 
Sicilian  mariner:,  the  gooc*  Pietro  responded  to  with  amiable 
heartiness,  wishing  me  luck  on  my  next  voyage.  He  then 
betook  himself  anew  to  the  poll  hing  of  his  glasses — and 
I  passed  the  rest  of  the  day  in  strolling  about  the  least  fre- 
quented streets  of  thr  city  and  longing  impatiently  for  the 
crimson  glory  of  the  sunset,  which,  like  a  wide  flag  of  triumph, 
was  to  be  the  signal  of  my  safe  return  to  love  and  hap- 
piness. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IT  came  at  last,  the  blessed,  the  longed-for  evening.  A 
soft  breeze  sprung  up,  cooling  the  burning  air  after  the  heat 
of  the  day,  and  bringing  with  it  the  odor?  of  a  thousand 
flowers.  A  regal  glory  of  shifting  colors  blazed  on  the  breast 
of  heaven — the  bay,  motionless  as  a  mirror,  reflected  all  the 
splendid  tints  with  a  sheeny  luster  that  redoubled  their  mag- 
nificence. Pricked  in  every  vein  by  the  stinging  of  my  own 
desires,  I  yet  restrained  myself ;  I  waited  till  the  sun  sunk 
below  the  glassy  waters — till  the  pomp  and  glow  attending 


VENDETTA!  57 

its  departure  had  paled  into  those  dim,  ethereal  hues  which 
are  like  delicate  draperies  fallen  from  the  flying  forms  of 
angels — till  the  yellow  rim  of  the  round  full  moon  rose  lan- 
guidly on  the  edge  of  the  horizon — and  then  keeping  back 
my  eagerness  no  longer,  I  took  the  well-known  road  ascend- 
ing to  the  Villa  Romani,  My  heart  beat  high — my  limbs 
trembled  with  excitement — my  steps  were  impatient  and 
precipitate — never  had  the  way  seemed  so  long.  At  last  I 
reached  the  great  gate-way — it  was  locked  fast — its  sculp- 
tured lions  looked  upon  me  frowningly.  I  heard  the  splash 
and  tinkle  of  the  fountains  within,  the  scents  of  the  roses  and 
myrtle  were  wafted  toward  me  with  every  breath  I  drew. 
Home  at  last !  I  smiled — rry  whole  frame  quivered  with 
expectancy  and  delight.  It  was  not  my  intention  to  seek 
admission  by  the  principal  entrance — I  contented  myself  with 
one  long,  loving  look,  and  turned  to  the  left,  where  there  was 
a  small  private  gate  leading  into  an  avenue  of  ilex  and  pine, 
interspersed  with  orange-trees.  This  was  a  favorite  walk  of 
mine,  partly  on  account  of  its  pleasant  shade  even  in  the 
hottest  noon — parti;,  because  it  was  seldom  frequented  by 
any  member  of  the  household  save  myself.  Guido  occasion- 
ally took  a  turn  with  me  there,  but  I  was  more  often  alone, 
and  I  was  fond  of  pacing  up  and  down  in  the  shadow  of  the 
trees,  reading  some  favorite  book,  or  giving  myself  up  to  the 
dokefar  nienteol  my  own  imaginings.  The  avenue  led  round 
to  the  back  of  the  villa,  and  as  I  now  entered  it,  I  thought  I 
would  approach  the  house  cautiously  by  this  means  and  get 
private  speech  with  Assunta,  the  nurse  who  had  charge  of 
little  Stella,  and  who  was  moreover  an  old  and  tried  family 
servant,  in  whose  arms  my  mother  had  breathed  her  last. 

The  dark  trees  rustled  solemnly  as  I  stepped  quickly  yet 
softly  along  the  familiar  moss-grown  path.  The  place  was 
very  still — sometimes  the  nightingales  broke  into  a  bubbling 
torrent  of  melody,  and  then  were  suddenly  silent,  as  though 
overawed  by  the  shadows  of  the  heavy  interlacing  boughs, 
through  which  the  moonlight  flickered,  casting  strange  and 
fantastic  patterns  on  the  ground.  A  cloud  of  lucdole  broke 
from  a  thicket  of  laurel,  and  sparkled  in  the  air  like  gems 
loosened  from  a  queen's  crown.  Faint  odors  floated  about 
me,  shaken  from  orange  boughs  and  trailing  branches  of 
white  jasmine.  I  hastened  on,  my  spirits  rising  higher  the 
nearer  I  approached  my  destination.  I  was  full  of  sweet' 
anticipation  and  passionate  longing — I  yearned  to  clasp  my 
beloved  Nina  in  my  arms — to  see  her  lovely  lustrous  eve$ 


5S  VENDETTAt 

looking  fondly  into  mine — I  was  eager  to  shake  Guido  by 
the  hand — and  as  for  Stella,  I  knew  the  child  would  be  in 
bed  at  that  hour,  but  still,  I  thought,  I  must  have  her  wak- 
ened to  see  me.  I  felt  that  my  happiness  would  not  be  com- 
plete till  I  had  kissed  her  little  cherub  face,  and  caressed 
those  clustering  curls  of  hers  that  were  like  spun  gold. 
Hush — hush  !  What  was  that  ?  I  stopped  in  my  rapid  pro- 
gress as  though  suddenly  checked  by  an  invisible  hand.  I 
listened  with  strained  ears.  That  sound — was  it  not  a  rip- 
pling peal  of  gay  sweet  laughter?  A  shiver  shook  me  from 
head  to  foot.  It  was  my  wife's  laugh — I  knew  the  silvery 
chime  of  it  well  !  My  heart  sunk  coldly — I  paused  irreso- 
lute. She  could  laugh  then  like  that,  while  she  thought  me 
lying  dead — dead  and  out  of  her  reach  forever !  All  at 
once  I  perceived  the  glimmer  of  a  white  robe  through  the 
trees ;  obeying  my  own  impulse,  I  stepped  softly  aside — I 
hid  behind  a  dense  screen  of  foliage  through  which  I  could 
see  without  being  seen.  The  clear  laugh  rang  out  once 
again  on  the  stillness — its  brightness  pierced  my  brain  like 
a  sharp  swosd  !  She  was  happy — she  was  even  merry — she 
wandered  here  in  the  moonlight  joyous-hearted,  while  I — I 
had  expected  to  find  her  close  shut  within  her  room,  or  else 
kneeling  before  the  Mater  Dolorosa  in  the  little  chapel, 
praying  for  my  soul's  rest,  and  mingling  her  prayers  with 
her  tears !  Yes — I  had  expected  this — we  men  are  such 
fools  when  we  love  women  !  Suddenly  a  terrible  thought 
struck  me.  Had  she  gone  mad  ?  Had  the  shock  and  grief 
of  my  so  unexpected  death  turned  her  delicate  brain  ?  Was 
she  roaming  about,  poor  child,  like  Ophelia,  knowing  not 
whither  she  went,  and  was  her  apparent  gayety  the  fantastic 
mirth  of  a  disordered  brain  ?  I  shuddered  at  the  idea — 
and  bending  slightly  apart  the  boughs  behind  which  I  was 
secreted,  I  looked  out  anxiously.  Two  figures  were  slowly 
approaching — my  wife  and  my  friend,  Guido  Ferrari.  Well 
— there  was  nothing  in  that — it  was  as  it  should  be — was  not 
Guido  as  my  brother  ?  It  was  almost  his  duty  to  console  and 
cheer  Nina  as  much  as  lay  in  his  power.  But  stay!  stay!  did 
I  see  aright — was  she  simply  leaning  on  his  arm  for  support 
— or — a  fierce  oath,  that  was  almost  a  cry  of  torture,  broke 
from  my  lips  !  Oh,  would  to  God  I  had  died  !  Would  to 
God  I  had  never  broken  open  the  coffin  in  which  I  lay  at 
"peace  !  What  was  death — what  were  the  horrors  of  the  vault 
— what  was  anything  I  had  suffered  to  the  anguish  that 
racked  me  now  ?  The  memory  of  it  to  this  day  burns  in  my 


VENDETTA !  59 

brain  like  inextinguishable  fire,  and  ray  hand  involuntarily 
:linches  itself  in  an  effort  to  beat  back  the  furious  bitterness 
of  that  moment !  I  know  not  how  I  restrained  the  murderous 
ferocity  that  awoke  within  me — how  I  forced  myself  to  re- 
main motionless  and  silent  in  my  hiding-place.  But  I  did. 
I  watched  the  miserable  comedy  out  to  its  end.  I  looked 
dumbly  on  at  my  own  betrayal !  I  saw  my  honor  stabbed 
to  the  death  by  those  whom  I  most  trusted,  and  yet  I  gave 
no  sign  !  They — Guido  Ferrari  and  my  wife — came  so 
close  to  my  hiding-place  that  I  could  note  every  gesture  and 
hear  every  word  they  uttered.  They  paused  within  three 
steps  of  me — his  arm  encircled  her  waist — hers  was  thrown 
carelessly  around  his  neck — her  head  rested  on  his  shoulder. 
Even  so  had  she  walked  with  me  a  thousand  times !  She 
was  dressed  in  pure  white  save  for  one  spot  of  deep  color 
near  her  heart — a  red  rose,  as  red  as — blood.  It  was  pinned 
there  with  a  diamond  pin  that  flashed  in  the  moonlight.  I 
thought  wildly,  that  instead  of  that  rose,  there  should  be 
blood  indeed — instead  of  a  diamond  pin  there  should  be 
the  good  steel  of  a  straight  dagger  !  But  I  had  no  weapon 
— I  stared  at  her,  dry-eyed  and  mute.  She  looked  lovely — 
exquisitely  lovely  !  No  trace  of  grief  marred  the  fairness  of 
her  face — her  eyes  were  as  languidly  limpid  and  tender  as 
ever — her  lips  were  parted  in  the  child-like  smile  that  was 
so  sweet — so  innocently  trustful !  She  spoke — ah,  Heaven  ! 
the  old  bewitching  music  of  her  low  voice  made  my  heart 
leap  and  my  brain  reel. 

"  You  foolish  Guido  !  "  she  said,  in  dreamily  amused  ac- 
cents. "  What  would  have  happened,  I  wonder,  if  Fabio 
had  not  died  so  opportunely." 

I  waited  eagerly  for  the  answer.     Guido  laughed  lightly. 

"  He  would  never  have  discovered  anything.  You  were; 
too  clever  for  him,  piccinina !  Besides,  his  conceit  saved 
him — he  had  so  good  an  opinion  of  himself  that  he  would 
not  have  deemed  it  possible  for  you  to  care  for  any  other  man." 

My  wife — flawless  diamond — pearl  of  pure  womanhood  !— 
sighed  half  restlessly. 

"  I  am  glad  he  is  dead  !  "  she  murmured  ;  "  but,  Guido 
mio,  you  are  imprudent.  You  cannot  visit  me  now  so  often 
— the  servants  will  talk !  Then  I  must  go  into  mourning  for 
at  least  six  months — and  there  are  many  other  things  to  con- 
sider.;' 

Guido's  hand  played  with  the  jeweled  necklace  she  wore— 
Jia  fcent  and  kissed  the  place  where  its  central  pendant  rested. 


60  VENDETTA! 

Again — again,  good  sir,  I  pray  you  !  Let  no  faint  scruples 
interfere  with  your  rightful  enjoyment !  Cover  the  white 
flesh  with  caresses — it  is  public  property  !  a  dozen  kisses 
more  or  less  will  not  signify  !  So  I  madly  thought  as  I 
crouched  among  the  trees — the  tigerish  wrath  within  me 
making  the  blood  beat  in  my  head  like  a  hundred  hammer- 
strokes. 

"  Nay  then,  my  love,"  he  replied  to  her,  "  it  is  almost  a 
pity  Fabio  is  dead !  While  he  lived  he  played  an  excellent 
part  as  a  screen — he  was  an  unconscious,  but  veritable 
duenna  of  propriety  for  both  of  us,  as  no  one  else  could  be  !  " 

The  boughs  that  covered  me  creaked  and  rustled.  My 
wife  started,  and  looked  uneasily  round  her. 

"  Hush  !  "  she  said,  nervously.  "  He  was  buried  only  yes- 
terday— and  they  say  there  are  ghosts  sometimes.  This 
avenue,  too — I  wish  we  had  not  come  here — it  was  his  favor- 
ite walk.  Besides,"  she  added,  with  a  slight  accent  of  re- 
gret, "  after  all  he  was  the  father  of  my  child — you  must 
think  of  that." 

"  By  Heaven  !  "  exclaimed  Guido,  fiercely,  "  do  I  not  think 
of  it  ?  Ay — and  1  curse  him  for  every  kiss  he  stole  from 
your  lips ! " 

I  listened  half  stupefied.  Here  was  a  new  phase  of  the 
marriage  law!  Husbands  were  thieves  then — they  "  stole" 
kisses  ;  only  lovers  were  honest  in  their  embraces  !  Oh,  my 
dear  friend — my  more  than  brother — how  near  you  were  to 
death  at  that  moment !  Had  you  but  seen  my  face  peering 
pallidly  through  the  dusky  leaves — could  you  have  known 
the  force  of  the  fury  pent  up  within  me — you  would  not  have 
valued  your  life  at  one  baiocco  / 

"  Why  did  you  marry  him  ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  little  pause, 
during  which  he  toyed  with  the  fair  curls  that  floated  against 
his  breast. 

She  looked  up  with  a  little  mutinous  pout,  and  shrugged 
her  shoulders. 

"  Why  ?  Because  I  was  tired  of  the  convent,  and  all  the 
stupid,  solemn  ways  of  the  nuns ;  also  because  he  was  rich, 
and  I  was  horribly  poor.  I  cannot  bear  to  be  poor !  Then 
he  loved  me  " — here  her  eyes  glimmered  with  malicious 
triumph — "  yes — he  was  mad  for  me — and — 

"  You  loved  him  ?  "  demanded  Guido,  almost  fiercely. 

"  Ma  chef"  she  answered,  with  an  expressive  gesture. 
"  I  suppose  I  did — for  a  week  or  two.  As  much  as  one  ever 
U>ves  a  husband  1  What  does  one  marry  for  at  all  ?  Fo* 


VENDETTA!  6 1 

convenience — money — position — he  gave  me  these  things,  as 
you  know." 

"  You  will  gain  nothing  by  marrying  me,  then,"  he  said, 
jealously. 

She  laughed,  and  laid  her  little  white  hand,  glittering  with 
rings,  lightly  against  his  lips. 

"  Of  course  not !  Besides — have  I  said  I  will  marry  you  ? 
You  are  very  agreeable  as  a  lover — but  otherwise — I  am  not 
sure  !  And  I  am  free  now — I  can  do  as  I  like ;  I  want  to 
enjoy  my  liberty,  and — " 

She  was  not  allowed  to  complete  her  sentence,  for  Ferrari 
snatched  her  close  to  his  breast  and  held  her  there  as  in  a 
vise.  His  face  was  aflame  with  passion. 

"  Look  you,  Nina,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  "you  shall  not  fool 
me,  by  Heaven  !  you  shall  not  !  I  have  endured  enough  at 
your  hands,  God  knows  !  When  I  saw  you  for  the  first  time 
on  the  day  of  your  marriage  with  that  poor  fool,  Fabio— I 
loved  you,  madly — ay,  wickedly  as  I  then  thought,  but  not 
for  the  sin  of  it  did  I  repent.  I  knew  you  were  woman,  not 
angel,  and  I  waited  my  time.  Il  came — I  sought  you — I 
told  you  my  story  of  love  ere  three  months  of  wedded  life 
had  passed  over  your  head.  I  found  you  willing — ready — 
nay,  eager  to  hear  me  !  You  led  me  on  ;  you  know  you  did ! 
You  tempted  me  by  touch,  word  and  look ;  you  gave  me  all 
I  sought !  Why  try  to  excuse  it  now  ?  You  are  as  much 
my  wife  as  ever  you  were  Fabio's — nay — you  are  more  so, 
for  you  love  me — at  least  you  say  so — and  though  you  lied 
to  your  husband,  you  dare  not  lie  to  me.  I  tell  you,  you 
dare  not  f  I  never  pitied  Fabio,  never — he  was  too  easily 
duped,  and  a  married  man  has  no  right  to  be  otherwise  than 
suspicious  and  ever  on  his  guard ;  if  he  relaxes  in  his  vigil- 
ance he  has  only  himself  to  blame  when  his  honor  is  flung 
like  a  ball  from  hand  to  hand,  as  one  plays  with  a  child's 
toy.  I  repeat  to  you,  Nina,  you  are  mine,  and  I  swear  you 
shall  never  escape  me !  " 

The  impetuous  words  coursed  rapidly  from  his  lips,  and 
his  deep  musical  voice  had  a  defiant  ring  as  it  fell  on  the 
stillness  of  the  evening  air.  I  smiled  bitterly  as  I  heard  1 
She  struggled  in  his  arms  half  angrily. 

"  Let  me  go,"  she  said.      "  You  are  rough,  you  hurt  me  !  " 

He  released  her  instantly.  The  violence  of  his  embrace 
had  crushed  the  rose  she  wore,  and  its  crimson  leaves  flut- 
tered slowly  down  one  by  one  on  the  ground  at  her  feet. 
Her  eyes  flashed  resentfully,  and  an  impatient  frown  con- 


6*  VENDETTA  t 

tracted  her  fair  level  brows.  She  looked  away  from  him  in 
silence,  the  silence  of  a  cold  disdain.  Something  in  her 
attitude  pained  him,  for  he  sprung  forward  and  caught  her 
hand,  covering  it  with  kisses. 

11  Forgive  me,  carina  mia"  he  cried,  repentantly.  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  reproach  you.  You  cannot  help  being  beauti- 
ful— it  is  the  fault  of  God  or  the  devil  that  you  are  so,  and 
that  your  beauty  maddens  me !  You  are  the  heart  of  my 
heart,  the  soul  of  my  soul !  Oh,  Nina  mia,  let  us  not  waste 
words  in  useless  anger.  Think  of  it,  we  are  free — free  1  Free 
to  make  life  a  long  dream  of  delight — delight  more  perfect 
than  angels  can  know !  The  greatest  blessing  that  could 
have  befallen  us  is  the  death  of  Fabio,  and  now  that  we  are 
all  in  all  to  each  other,  do  not  harden  yourself  against  me  I 
Nina,  be  gentle  with  me — of  all  things  in  the  world,  surely 
love  is  best !  " 

She  smiled,  with  the  pretty  superior  smile  of  a  young  em- 
press pardoning  a  recreant  subject,  and  suffered  him  to  draw 
her  again,  but  with  more  gentleness,  into  his  embrace.  She 
put  up  her  lips  to  meet  his — I  looked  on  like  a  man  in  a  dream ! 
I  saw  them  cling  together — each  kiss  they  exchanged  was  a 
fresh  stab  to  my  tortured  soul. 

"  You  are  so  foolish,  Guido  mio"  she  pouted,  passing  her 
little  jeweled  fingers  through  his  clustering  hair  with  a  light 
caress — "  so  impetuous — so  jealous  !  I  have  told  you  over 
and  over  again  that  I  love  you !  Do  you  not  remember  that 
night  when  Fabio  sat  out  on  the  balcony  reading  his  Plato, 
poor  fellow  !  " — here  she  laughed  musically — "  and  we  were 
trying  over  some  songs  in  the  drawing-room — did  I  not  say 
then  that  I  loved  you  best  of  any  one  in  the  world  ?  You 
know  I  did  !  You  ought  to  be  satisfied  ! " 

Guido  smiled,  and  stroked  her  shining  golden  curls. 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  he  said,  without  any  trace  of  his  former 
heated  impatience — "  perfectly  satisfied.  But  do  not  expect 
to  find  love  without  jealousy.  Fabio  was  never  jealous — I 
know — he  trusted  you  too  implicitly — he  was  nothing  of  a 
lover,  believe  me  !  He  thought  more  of  himself  than  of  you. 
A  man  who  will  go  away  for  days  at  a  time  on  solitary  yacht- 
ing and  rambling  excursions,  leaving  his  wife  to  her  own 
devices — a  man  who  reads  Plato  in  preference  to  looking 
after  her,  decides  his  own  fate,  and  deserves  to  be  ranked 
with  those  so-called  wise  but  most  ignorant  philosophers  to 
whom  Woman  has  always  remained  an  unguessed  riddle. 
A.S  for  me — I  am  jealous  of  the  ground  you  tread  upon — of 


VENDETTA!  63 

the  air  that  touches  you — I  was  jealous  of  Fabio  while  he 
lived — and — by  Heaven  !  " — his  eyes  darkened  with  a  somber 
wrath — "  if  any  other  man  dared  now  to  dispute  your  love 
with  me  I  would  not  rest  till  his  body  had  served  my  sword 
as  a  sheath  !  " 

Nina  raised  her  head  from  his  breast  with  an  air  of  petu- 
lant weariness. 

"  Again  !  "  she  murmured,  reproachfully,  "  you  are  going 
to  be  angry  again  /  " 

He  kissed  her. 

44  Not  I,  sweet  one  !  I  will  be  as  gentle  as  you  wish,  so 
long  as  you  love  me  and  only  me.  Come — this  avenue  is 
damp  and  chilly  for  you — shall  we  go  in  ?  " 

My  wife — nay,  I  should  say  OUR  wife,  as  we  had  both 
shared  her  impartial  favors — assented.  With  arms  interlaced 
and  walking  slowly,  they  began  to  retrace  their  steps  toward 
the  house.  Once  they  paused. 

"  Do  you  hear  th    nightingales?  "  asked  Guido. 

Hear  them?  Who  could  not  hear  them?  A  shower  of 
melody  rained  from  the  trees  on  every  side — the  pure,  sweet, 
passionate  tones  pierced  the  ear  like  the  repeated  chime  of 
little  golden  bells — the  beautiful,  the  tender,  the  God-inspired 
birds  sung  their  love-stories  simply  and  with  perfect  rapture 
— love-stories  untainted  by  hypocrisy — unsullied  by  crime — • 
different,  ah  !  so  very  different  from  the  love-stories  of  selfish 
humanity  !  The  exquisite  poetic  idyl  of  a  bird's  life  and  love 
— is  it  not  a  thing  to  put  us  inferior  creatures  to  shame— 
for  are  we  ever  as  true  to  our  vows  as  the  lark  to  his  mate  ? 
—are  we  as  sincere  in  our  thanksgivings  for  the  sunlight  as 
the  merry  robin  who  sings  as  blithely  in  the  winter  snow  as 
in  the  flower-filled  mornings  of  spring  ?  Nay — not  we  !  Our 
existence  is  but  one  long  impotent  protest  against  God, 
combined  with  an  insatiate  desire  to  get  the  better  of  one 
another  in  the  struggle  for  base  coin  ! 

Nina  listened — and  shivered,  drawing  her  light  scarf  more 
closely  about  her  shoulders. 

"  I  hate  them  !  "  she  said,  pettishly  ;  "  their  noise  is 
enough  to  pierce  one's  ears.  And  he  used  to  be  so  fond  of 
them  ;  he  used  to  sing — what  was  it  ? 

'  Ti  saluto,  RosignuolOy 
Nel  tuo  duolo,  ti  saluto  ! 
Set  ramante  della  rosa 
Che  morendo  si  fa  sposa  !  " 

Her  rkh  voice  rippled  out  on  the  air,  rivaling  the  songs  of 


64  VENDETTA! 

the  nightingales  themselves.  She  broke  oft  with  a  little 
laugh— 

"  Poor  Fabio !  there  was  always  a  false  note  somewhere 
when  he  sung.  Come,  Guido  !  " 

And  they  paced  on  quietly,  as  though  their  consciences 
were  clean — as  though  no  just  retribution  dogged  their  steps 
— as  though  no  shadow  of  a  terrible  vengeance  loomed  in 
the  heaven  of  their  pilfered  happiness  !  I  watched  them 
steadily  as  they  disappeared  in  the  distance — I  stretched 
my  head  eagerly  out  from  between  the  dark  boughs  and 
gazed  after  their  retreating  figures  till  the  last  glimmer  of 
my  wife's  white  robe  had  vanished  behind  the  thick  foliage. 
They  were  gone — they  would  return  no  more  that  night. 

I  sprung  out  from  my  hiding-place.  I  stood  on  the  spot 
where  they  had  stood.  I  tried  to  bring  home  to  myself  the 
actual  truth  of  what  I  had  witnessed.  My  brain  whirled — 
circles  of  Hght  swam  giddily  before  me  in  the  air — the  moon 
looked  blood-red.  The  solid  earth  seemed  unsteady  be- 
neath my  feet — almost  I  doubted  whether  I  was  indeed  alive, 
or  whether  I  was  not  rather  the  wretched  ghost  of  my  past 
self,  doomed  to  return  from  the  grave  to  look  helplessly 
upon  the  loss  and  ruin  of  all  the  fair,  once  precious  things 
of  by-gone  days.  The  splendid  universe  around  me  seemed 
no  more  upheld  by  the  hand  of  God — no  more  a  majestic 
marvel ;  it  was  to  me  but  an  inflated  bubble  of  emptiness— 
a  mere  ball  for  devils  to  kick  and  spurn  through  space  !  Of 
what  avail  these  twinkling  stars — these  stately  leaf-laden 
trees — these  cups  of  fragrance  we  know  as  flowers — this 
round  wonder  of  the  eyes  called  Nature  ?  of  what  avail  was 
God  Himself,  I  widely  mused,  since  even  He  could  not  keep 
one  woman  true  ?  She  whom  I  loved — she  as  delicate  of 
form,  as  angel-like  in  face  as  the  child-bride  of  Christ,  St. 
Agnes — she,  even  she  was — what  ?  A  thing  lower  than  the 
beasts,  a  thing  as  vile  as  the  vilest  wretch  in  female  form 
that  sells  herself  for  a  gold  piece — a  thing — great  Heaven! 
— for  all  men  to  despise  and  make  light  of — for  the  finger  of 
Scorn  to  point  out — for  the  foul  hissing  tongue  of  Scandal 
to  mock  at !  This  creature  was  my  wife — the  mother  of  my 
child — she  had  cast  mud  on  her  soul  by  her  own  free  will 
and  choice — she  had  selected  evil  as  her  good — she  had 
crowned  herself  with  shame  willingly,  nay — joyfully ;  she 
had  preferred  it  to  honor.  What  should  be  done  ?  I  tort- 
ured myself  unceasingly  with  this  question.  I  stared  blankly 
on  the  ground — would  some  demon  spring  from  it  and  give 


VENDETTA!  6$ 

me  the  ansvfcf  I  sought  ?  What  should  be  done  with  her — 
with  him,  my  treacherous  friend,  my  smiling  betrayer?  Sud- 
denly my  eyes  lighted  on  the  fallen  rose-leaves — those  that 
had  dropped  when  Guide's  embrace  had  crushed  the  flower 
she  wore.  There  they  lay  on  the  path,  curled  softly  at  the 
edges  like  little  crimson  shells.  I  stooped  and  picked  them 
up — I  placed  them  all  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand  and  looked 
at  them.  They  had  a  sweet  odor — almost  I  kissed  them — 
nay,  nay,  I  could  not— they  had  too  recently  lain  on  the 
breast  of  an  embodied  Lie  !  Yes  ;  she  was  that,  a  Lie,  a 
living,  lovely,  but  accursed  Lie  !  "  Go  and  kill  her  !"  Stay ! 
where  had  I  heard  that  ?  Painfully  I  considered,  and  at  last 
remembered — and  then  I  thought  moodily  that  the  starved 
and  miserable  rag-picker  was  more  of  a  man  than  I.  He 
had  taken  his  revenge  at  once  ;  while  I,  like  a  fool,  had  let 
occasion  slip.  Yes,  but  not  forever  !  There  were  different 
ways  of  vengeance ;  one  must  decide  the  best,  the  keenest 
way — and,  above  all,  the  way  that  shall  inflict  the  longest, 
the  crudest  agony  upon  those  by  whom  honor  is  wronged. 
True — it  would  be  sweet  to  slay  sin  in  the  act  of  sinning, 
but  then — must  a  Romani  brand  himself  as  a  murderer  in 
the  sight  of  men  ?  Not  so  ;  there  were  other  means — other 
roads,  leading  to  the  same  end  if  the  tired  brain  could  only 
plan  them  out.  Slowly  I  dragged  my  aching  limbs  to  the 
fallen  trunk  of  a  tree  and  sat  down,  still  holding  the  dying 
rose-leaves  in  my  clinched  palm.  There  was  a  surging 
noise  in  my  ears — my  mouth  tasted  of  blood,  my  lips  were 
parched  and  burning  as  with  fever.  "A  white-haired  fisher- 
man" That  was  me  !  The  king  had  said  so.  Mechanically 
I  looked  down  at  the  clothes  I  wore — the  former  property  of 
a  suicide.  "  He  was  a  fool,"  the  vender  of  them  had  said, 
"  he  killed  himself." 

Yes,  there  was  no  doubt  of  it — he  was  a  fool.  I  would  not 
ollow  his  example,  or  at  least  not  yet.  I  had  something  to  do 
iirst — something  that  must  be  done  if  I  could  only  see  my  way 
clear  to  it.  Yes — if  I  could  only  see  my  way  and  follow  it 
straightly,  resolutely,  remorselessly !  My  thoughts  were  con- 
fused, like  the  thoughts  of  a  fever-stricken  man  in  delirium — 
the  scent  of  the  rose-leaves  I  held  sickened  me  strangely — 
yet  I  would  not  throw  them  from  me  ;  no,  I  would  keep 
them  to  remind  me  of  the  embraces  I  had  witnessed  !  I  felt 
for  my  purse !  I  found  and  opened  it,  and  placed  the 
withering  red  petals  carefully  within  it.  As  I  slipped  it 
again  in  my  pocket  I  remembered  the  two  leathern  pouches 
5 


M  VENDETTA! 

I  carried — the  one  filled  with  gold,  the  other  with  the  jewels 
I  had  intended  for — her.  My  adventures  in  the  vault  re- 
curred to  me ;  I  smiled  as  I  recollected  the  dire  struggle  I 
had  made  for  life  and  liberty.  Life  and  liberty ! — of  what 
ase  were  they  to  me  now,  save  for  one  thing — revenge  ?  I 
was  not  wanted ;  I  was  not  expected  back  to  refill  my  former 
place  on  earth — the  large  fortune  I  had  possessed  was  now 
my  wife's  by  the  decree  of  my  own  last  will  and  testament, 
which  she  would  have  no  difficulty  in  proving.  But  still, 
wealth  was  mine — the  hidden  stores  of  the  brigands  w.^re 
sufficient  to  make  any  man  more  than  rich  for  the  term 
of  his  natural  life.  As  I  considered  this,  a  sort  of  dull 
pleasure  throbbed  in  my  veins.  Money  !  Anything  could 
be  done  for  money — gold  would  purchase  even  vengeance. 
But  what  sort  of  vengeance  ?  Such  a  one  as  I  sought  must 
be  unique — refined,  relentless,  and  complete..  I  pondered 
deeply.  The  evening  wind  blew  freshly  up  from  the  sea ; 
the  leaves  of  the  swaying  trees  whispered  mysteriously  to- 
gether ;  the  nightingales  warbled  on  with  untired  .sweetness ; 
and  the  moon,  like  the  round  shield  of  an  angel  warrior, 
shone  brightly  against  the  dense  blue  background  of  the 
sky.  Heedless  of  the  passing  of  hours,  I  sat  still,  lost  in  a 
bewildered  reverie.  "  There  was  always  a  false  note  some" 
where  when  he  sung  !"  So  she  had  said,  laughing  that  little 
laugh  of  hers  as  cold  and  sharp  as  the  clash  of  steel.  True, 
true  ;  by  all  the  majesty  of  Heaven,  most  true  !  There  was 
indeed  a  false  note — jarring,  not  so  much  the  voice  as  the 
music  of  life  itself.  There  is  stuff  in  all  of  us  that  will 
weave,  as  we  desire  it,  into  a  web  of  stately  or  simple 
harmony ;  but  let  the  meteor-like  brilliancy  of  a  woman's 
smile — a  woman's  touch — a  woman's  lie — intermingle  itself 
with  the  strain,  and  lo  !  the  false  note  is  struck,  discord  de- 
clares itself,  and  God  Himself,  the  great  Composer,  can  do 
nothing  in  this  life  to  restore  the  old  calm  tune  of  peaceful, 
unspoiled  days  !  So  I  have  found  ;  so  all  of  you  must  find, 
long  before  you  and  sorrow  grow  old  together. 

"  A  white-haired  fisherman  I " 

The  words  of  the  king  repeated  themselves  over  and  over 
again  in  my  tortured  brain.  Yes — I  was  greatly  changed,  I 
looked  worn  and  old — no  one  would  recognize  me  for  my 
former  self.  All  at  once,  with  this  thought,  an  idea  occurred 
to  me — a  plan  of  vengeance,  so  bold,  so  new,  and  withal  so 
terrible,  that  I  started  from  my  seat  as  though  stung  by  an 
adder.  I  paced  up  and  down  rest'essly,  with  this  lurid  light 


VENDETTA]  67 

of  fearful  revenge  pouring  in  on  every  nook  and  cranny  of  my 
darkened  mind.  From  whence  had  come  this  daring  scheme  ? 
What  devil,  or  rather  what  angel  of  retribution,  had 
whispered  it  to  my  soul  ?  Dimly  I  wondered — but  amid 
all  my  wonder  I  began  practically  to  arrange  the  details  of 
my  plot.  I  calculated  every  small  circumstance  that  was 
likely  to  occur  in  the  process  of  carrying  it  out.  My  stupe- 
fied senses  became  aroused  from  the  lethargy  of  despair, 
and  stood  up  like  soldiers  on  the  alert  armed  to  the  teeth. 
Past  love,  pity,  pardon,  patience — pooh  !  what  were  all  these 
resources  of  the  world's  weakness  to  me?  What  was  it  to 
me  that  the  bleeding  Christ  forgave  His  enemies  in  death  ? 
He  never  loved  a  woman  !  Strength  and  resolution  returned 
to  me.  Let  common  sailors  and  rag-pickers  resort  to  murder 
and  suicide  as  fit  outlets  for  their  unreasoning  brute  wrath 
when  wronged ;  but  as  for  me,  why  should  I  blot  my  family 
scutcheon  with  a  merely  vulgar  crime  ?  Nay,  the  vengeance 
of  a  Romani  must  be  taken  with  assured  calmness  and  easy 
deliberatiqn — no  haste,  no  plebeian  fury,  no  effeminate  fuss, 
no  excitement.  I  walked  up  and  down  slowly,  meditating 
en  every  point  of  the  bitter  drama  in  which  I  had  resolved 
to  enact  the  chief  part,  from  the  rise  to  fhe  fall  of  the  black 
curtain.  The  mists  cleared  from  my  brain — I  breathed  more 
easily — my  nerves  steadied  themselves  by  degrees — the 
prospect  of  what  I  purposed  doing  satisfied  me  and  calmed 
the  fever  in  my  blood.  I  became  perfectly  cool  and  collected. 
I  indulged  in  no  more  futile  regrets  for  the  past — why  should 
I  mourn  the  loss  of  a  love  I  never  possessed  ?  It  was  not 
as  if  they  had  waited  till  my  supposed  sudden  death— no  ! 
within  three  months  of  my  marriage  they  had  fooled  me ;  for 
three  whole  years  they  had  indulged  in  their  criminal  amour, 
while  I,  blind  dreamer,  had  suspected  nothing.  Now  I  knew 
the  extent  of  my  injury ;  I  was  a  man  bitterly  wronged,  vilely 
duped.  Justice,  reason,  and  self-respect  demanded  that  I 
should  punish  to  the  utmost  the  miserable  tricksters  who  had 
played  me  false.  The  passionate  tenderness  I  had  felt  for  my 
wife  was  gone — I  plucked  it  from  my  heart  as  I  would  have 
torn  a  thorn  from  my  flesh — I  flung  it  from  me  with  disgust 
as  I  had  flung  away  the  unseen  reptile  that  had  fastened  on 
my  neck  in  the  vault.  The  deep  warm  friendship  of  years  I 
had  felt  for  Guido  Ferrari  froze  to  its  very  foundations — and 
in  its  place  there  rose  up,  not  hate,  but  pitiless,  immeasurable 
contempt.  A  stern  disdain  of  myself  also  awoke  in  me,  as  I 
remembered  the  unreasoning  joy  with  which  I  had  hastened 


68  YMtfDETTAt 

— as  I  thought — home,  full  of  eager  anticipation  and  Romeo< 
like  ardor.  An  idiot  leaping  merrily  to  his  death  ovor  a 
mountain  chasm  was  not  more  fool  than  I  !  But  the  divam 
was  over — the  delusion  of  my  life  was  passed.  I  was  strong 
to  avenge — I  would  be  swift  to  accomplish.  So,  darkly 
musing  for  an  hour  or  more,  I  decided  on  the  course  I  had 
to  pursue,  and  to  make  the  decision  final  I  drew  from  my 
breast  the  crucifix  that  the  dead  monk  Cipriano  had  laid 
with  me  in  my  coffin,  and  kissing  it,  I  raised  it  aloft,  and 
swore  by  that  sacred  symbol  never  to  relent,  never  to  relax, 
never  to  rest,  till  I  had  brought  my  vow  of  just  vengeance  to 
its  utmost  fulfillment.  The  stars,  calm  witnesses  of  my 
oath,  eyed  me  earnestly  from  their  judgment  thrones  in  the 
quiet  sky — there  was  a  brief  pause  in  the  singing  of  the 
nightingales,  as  though  they  too  listened — the  wind  sighed 
plaintively,  and  scattered  a  shower  of  jasmine  blossoms  like 
snow  at  my  feet.  Even  so,  I  thought,  fall  the  last  leaves 
Of  my  white  days — days  of  pleasure,  days  of  sweet  illusion, 
days  of  dear  remembrance  ;  even  so  let  them  wither  and 
perish  utterly  forever  !  For  from  henceforth  my  life  must  be 
something  other  than  a  mere  garland  of  flowers — it  must  be 
a  chain  of  finely  tempered  steel,  hard,  cold,  and  unbreakable 
— formed  into  links  strong  enough  to  wind  round  and  round 
two  false  lives  and  imprison  them  so  closely  as  to  leave  no 
means  of  escape.  This  was  what  must  be  done — and  I  re- 
solved to  do  it.  With  a  firm,  quiet  step  I  turned  to  leave 
the  avenue.  I  opened  the  little  private  wicket,  and  passed 
into  the  dusty  road.  A  clanging  noise  caused  me  to  look  up 
as  I  went  by  the  principal  entrance  of  the  Villa  Romani.  A 
servant — my  own  man-servant  by  the  by — was  barring  the 
great  gates  for  the  night.  I  listened  as  he  slid  the  bolts  into 
their  places,  and  turned  the  key.  I  remembered  that  those 
gates  had  been  thoroughly  fastened  before,  when  I  came  up  the 
road  from  Naples — why  then  had  they  been  opened  since  ? 
To  let  out  a  visitor?  Of  course !  I  smiled  grimly  at  my 
wife's  cunning !  She  evidently  knew  what  she  was  about. 
Appearances  m^st  be  kept  up — the  Signer  Ferrari  must  be 
decorously  shown  out  by  a  servant  at  the  chief  entrance  of 
the  house.  Naturally ! — all  very  unsuspicious-looking  and 
quite  in  keeping  with  the  proprieties  !  Guido  had  just  left 
her  then  ?  I  walked  steadily,  without  hurrying  my  pace,  down 
the  hill  toward  the  city,  and  on  the  way  I  overtook  him.  1  Ie 
was  strolling  lazily  along,  smoking  as  usual,  and  he  held  a 
spray  of  stephanotis  in  his  hand — well  I  knew  who  had  given 


VENDETTA  I  69 

it  to  him  !  I  passed  him — he  glanced  up  carelessly,  his 
handsome  face  clearly  visible  in  the  bright  moonlight — but 
there  was  nothing  about  a  common  fisherman  to  attract  his 
attention — his  look  only  rested  upon  me  for  a  second  and 
was  withdrawn  immediately.  An  insane  desire  possessed 
me  to  turn  upon  him — to  spring  at  his  throat — to  wrestle 
with  him  and  throw  him  in  the  dust  at  my  feet — to  spit  at 
him  and  trample  upon  him — but  I  repressed  those  fierce  and 
dangerous  emotions.  I  had  a  better  game  to  play — I  had  an 
exquisite  torture  in  store  for  him,  compared  to  which  a  hand- 
to-hand  fight  was  mere  vulgar  fooling.  Vengeance  ought  to 
ripen  slowly  in  the  strong  heat  of  intense  wrath,  till  of  itself. 
it  falls — hastily  snatched  before  its  time  it  is  like  unmellowed 
fruit,  sour  and  ungrateful  to  the  palate.  So  I  let  my  dear 
friend — my  wife  s  consoler — saunter  on  his  heedless  way  with- 
out interference — I  passed,  leaving  him  to  indulge  in  amorous 
musings  to  his  false  heart's  content.  I  entered  Naples,  and 
found  a  night's  lodging  at  one  of  the  usual  resorts  for  men  of 
my  supposed  craft,  and,  strange  to  say,  I  slept  soundly  and 
dreamlessly.  Recent  illness,  fatigue,  fear,  and  sorrow,  all 
aided  to  throw  me  like  an  exhausted  child  upon  the  quiet 
bosom  of  slumber,  but  perhaps  the  most  powerfully  soothing 
opiate  to  my  brain  was  the  consciousness  I  had  of  a  practical 
plan  of  retribution — more  terrible  perhaps  than  any  human 
creature  had  yet  devised,  so  far  as  I  knew.  Unchristian  you 
call  me  ?  I  tell  you  again,  Christ  never  loved  a  woman  ! 
Had  He  done  so,  He  would  have  left  us  some  special  code 
of  justice. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

I  ROSE  very  early  the  next  morning — I  was  more  than  ever 
strengthened  in  my  resolutions  of  the  past  night — my  proj- 
jects  were  entirely  formed,  and  nothing  remained  now  but 
for  me  to  carry  them  out.  Unobserved  of  any  one  I  took 
my  way  again  to  the  vault.  I  carried  with  me  a  small  lan- 
tern, a  hammer,  and  some  strong  nails.  Arrived  at  the 
cemetery  I  looked  carefully  everywhere  about  me,  lest  some 
stray  mourner  or  curious  stranger  might  possibly  be  in  the 
neighborhood.  Not  a  soul  was  in  sight.  Making  use  of  the 
secret  passage,  I  soon  found  myself  on  the  scene  of  my 
recent  terrors  and  sufferings,  all  of  which  seemed  now  so 
slight  in  comparison  with  the  mental  torture  of  my  present 


70  VENDETTA! 

condition.  I  weni  #tt<tight  to  the  spot  where  I  had  left  the 
coffined  treasure — I  possessed  myself  of  all  the  rolls  of  papel 
money,  and  disposed  them  in  various  small  packages  about 
my  person  and  in  the  lining  of  my  clothes  till,  as  I  stood,  I 
tvas  worth  many  thousand  of  francs.  Then  with  the  help  oi 
the  tools  I  had  brought,  I  mended  the  huge  chest  in  the  split 
places  where  I  had  forced  it  open,  and  nailed  it  up  fast  so 
that  it  looked  as  if  it  had  never  been  touched.  I  lost  no 
time  over  my  task,  for  I  was  in  haste.  It  was  my  intention 
to  leave  Naples  for  a  fortnight  or  more,  and  I  purposed 
taking  my  departure  that  very  day.  Before  leaving  the 
vault  I  glanced  at  the  coffin  I  myself  had  occupied.  Should 
I  mend  that  and  nail  it  up  as  though  my  body  were  still  in- 
side ?  No — better  leave  it  as  it  was — roughly  broken  open — 
it  would  serve  my  purpose  better  so.  As  soon  as  I  had 
finished  all  I  had  to  do,  I  clambered  through  the  private 
passage,  closing  it  after  me  with  extra  care  and  caution,  and 
then  I  betook  myself  directly  to  the  Molo.  On  making 
inquiries  among  the  sailors  who  were  gathered  there,  I  heard 
that  a  small  coasting  brig  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  for 
Palermo.  Palermo  would  suit  me  as  well  as  any  other  place  : 
I  sought  out  the  captain  of  the  vessel.  He  was  a  brown-faced, 
merry-eyed  mariner — he  showed  his  glittering  white  teeth  in 
the  most  amiable  of  smiles  when  I  expressed  my  desire  to  take 
passage  with  him,  and  consented  to  the  arrangement  at  once 
for  a  sum  which  I  thought  extremely  moderate,  but  which  I 
afterward  discovered  to  be  about  treble  his  rightful  due. 
But  the  handsome  rogue  cheated  me  with  such  grace  and 
exquisite  courtesy,  that  I  would  scarcely  have  had  him  act 
otherwise  than  he  did.  I  hear  a  good  deal  of  the  "plain 
blunt  honesty "  of  the  English.  I  dare  say  there  is  some 
truth  in  it,  but  for  my  own  part  I  would  rather  be  cheated  by 
a  friendly  fellow  who  gives  you  a  cheery  word  and  a  bright 
look  than  receive  exact  value  for  my  money  from  the  "  plan, 
blunt  "  boor  who  seldom  has  the  common  politeness  to  wish 
you  a  good-day. 

We  got  under  way  at  about  nine  o'clock — the  morning  was 
bright,  and  the  air,  for  Naples,  was  almost  cool.  The  water 
rippling  against  the  sides  of  our  little  vessel  had  a  gurgling, 
chatty  murmur,  as  though  it  were  talking  vivaciously  of  all 
the  pleasant  things  it  experienced  between  the  rising  and  the 
setting  of  the  sun;  of  the  corals  and  trailing  sea-weed  that 
grew  in  its  blue  depths,  of  the  lithe  glittering  fish  that  darted 
hither  and  thither  between  its  little  waves,  of  the  delicate 


VENDETTA!  71 

shells  in  which  dwelt  still  more  delicate  inhabitants,  fantastic 
small  creatures  as  fine  as  filmy  lace,  that  peeped  from  the 
white  and  pink  doors  of  their  transparent  habitations,  and 
looked  as  enjoyingly  on  the  shimmering  blue-green  of  their 
ever-moving  element  as  we  look  on  the  vast  dome  of  our  sky, 
bespangled  thickly  with  stars.  Of  all  these  things,  and  many 
more  as  strange  and  sweet,  the  gossiping  water  babbled  un- 
ceasingly ;  it  had  even  something  to  say  to  me  concerning 
woman  and  woman's  love.  It  told  me  gleefully  how  many 
fair  female  bodies  it  had  seen  sunk  in  the  cold  embrace  of 
the  conquering  sea,  bodies,  dainty  and  soft  as  the  sylphs  of 
a  poet's  dream,  yet  which,  despite  their  exquisite  beauty, 
had  been  flung  to  and  fro  in  cruel  sport  by  the  raging  billows, 
and  tossed  among  pebbles  for  the  monsters  of  the  de-p  to 
feed  upon. 

As  I  sat  idly  on  the  vessel's  edge  and  looked  down,  down 
into  the  clear  Mediterranean,  brilliantly  blue  as  a  lake  of 
melted  sapphires,  I  fancied  I  could  see  her  the  Delilah  of 
my  life,  lying  prone  on  the  golden  sand,  her  rich  hair  floating 
straightly  around  her  like  yellow  weed,  her  hands  clinched 
in  the  death  agony,  her  laughing  lips  blue  with  the  piercing 
chilliness  of  the  washing  tide — powerless  to  move  or  smile 
again.  She  would  look  well  so,  I  thought — better  to  my 
mind  than  she  looked  in  the  arms  of  her  lover  last  night.  I 
fell  into  a  train  of  profound  meditation — a  touch  on  my 
shoulder  startled  me.  I. looked  up,  the  captain  of  the  bri& 
stood  beside  me.  He  smiled  and  held  out  a  cigarette. 

"  The  signer  wil?  smoke  ?  "  he  said  courteously. 

I  accepted  the  little  roll  of  fragrant  Havanna  half  me- 
chanically. 

"  Why  do  you  call  me  signer  ?  "  I  inquired  brusquely. 
"  I  am  a  coral-fisher." 

The  little  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  bowed  deferen- 
tially, yet  with  the  smile  still  dancing  gayly  in  his  eyes  and 
dimpling  his  olive  cheeks. 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  As  the  signor  pleases — ma —  And  he 
ended  with  another  expressive  shrug  and  bow. 

I  looked  at  him  fixedly.  "  What  do  you  mean  ? "  I  asked 
with  some  sternness. 

With  that  birdlike  lightness  and  swiftness  which  were  part 
of  his  manner,  the  Sicilian  skipper  bent  forward  and  laid  a 
brown  finger  on  my  wrist. 

"  Stusa,  viprego  /  But  the  hands  are  not  those  of  a  fisher 
of  coral." 


72  VENDETTA! 

I  glanced  down  at  them.  True  enough,  their  smoothness 
and  pliant  shape  betrayed  my  disguise — the  gay  little  captain 
was  sharp-witted  enough  to  note  the  contrast  between  them 
and  the  rough  garb  I  wore,  though  no  one  else  with  whom  I 
had  come  in  contact  had  been  as  keen  of  observation  as  he. 
At  first  I  was  slightly  embarrassed  by  his  remark — but  after 
a  moment's  pause  I  met  his  gaze  frankly,  and  lighting  my 
cigarette  I  said,  carelessly  : 

"  Ebbene!    And  what  then,  my  friend  ? " 

He  made  a  deprecatory  gesture  with  his  hands. 

"  Nay,  nay,  nothing — but  only  this.  The  signor  must  un- 
derstand he  is  perfectly  safe  with  me.  My  tongue  is  dis- 
creet— I  talk  of  things  only  that  concern  myself.  The  sig- 
nor has  good  reasons  for  what  he  does — of  that  I  am  sure. 
He  has  suffered  ;  it  is  enough  to  look  in  his  face  to  see  that. 
Ah,  Dio  /  there  are  so  many  sorrows  in  life ;  there  is  love," 
he  enumerated  rapidly  on  his  fingers — "  there  is  revenge — 
there  are  quarrels — there  is  loss  of  money ;  any  of  these  will 
drive  a  man  from  place  to  place  at  all  hours  and  in  all 
weathers.  Yes ;  it  is  so,  indeed — I  know  it !  The  signor 
has  trusted  himself  in  my  boat — I  desire  to  assure  him  of  my 
best  services." 

And  he  raised  his  red  cap  with  so  charming  a  candor  that 
in  my  lonely  and  morose  condition  I  was  touched  to  the 
heart.  Silently  I  extended  my  hand — he  caught  it  with  an 
air  in  which  respect,  sympathy,  and  entire  friendliness  were 
mingled.  And  yet  he  overcharged  me  for  my  passage,  you 
exclaim  !  Ay — but  he  would  not  have  made  me  the  object 
of  impertinent  curiosity  for  twenty  times  the  money  !  You 
cannot  understand  the  existence  of  such  conflicting  elements 
in  the  Italian  character  ?  No — I  dare  say  not.  The  ten- 
dency of  the  calculating  northerner  under  the  same  circum- 
stances would  have  been  to  make  as  much  out  of  me  as  pos- 
sible by  means  of  various  small  and  contemptible  items,  and 
then  to  go  with  broadly  honest  countenance  to  the  nearest 
police-station  and  describe  my  suspicious  appearance  and 
manner,  thus  exposing  me  to  fresh  expense  besides  personal 
annoyance.  With  the  rare  tact  that  distinguishes  the 
southern  races  the  captain  changed  the  conversation  by  a 
reference  to_  the  tobacco  we  were  both  enjoying. 

"  It  is  good,  is  it  not  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Excellent !  "  I  answered,  as  indeed  it  was. 

His  white  teeth  glittered  in  a  smile  of  amusement. 

*\\  should  be  of  the  finest  quality — for  it  is  a  present  from 


VENDETTA!  yj 

one  who  will  smoke  nothing  but  the  choice  brands.     Ah, 
Dio  I  what  a  fine  gentleman  spoiled  is  Carmelo  Neri !  " 

I  could  not  repress  a  slight  start  of  surprise.  What  ca- 
price of  Fate  associated  me  with  this  famous  brigand  ?  I  was 
actually  smoking  his  tobacco,  and  I  owed  all  my  present 
wealth  to  his  «tolen  treasures  secreted  in  my  family  vault ! 

"  You  know  the  man,  then  ?  "  I  inquired  with  some  curi- 
osity. 

"  Know  him  ?  As  well  as  I  know  myself.  Let  me  see,  it 
is  two  months — yes — two  months  to-day  since  he  was  with 
me  on  board  this  very  vessel.  It  happened  in  this  way — 1 
was  at  Gaeta — he  came  to  me  and  told  me  the  gendarmes 
were  after  him.  He  offered  me  more  gold  than  I  ever  had 
in  my  life  to  take  him  to  Termini,  from  whence  he  could  get 
to  one  of  his  hiding-places  in  the  Montemaggiore.  He 
brought  Teresa  with  him ;  he  found  me  alone  on  the  brig— 
my  men  had  gone  ashore.  He  said,  *  Take  us  to  Termini 
and  I  will  give  you  so  much ;  refuse  and  I  will  slit  your 
throat.'  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  That  was  good.  I  laughed  at  him 
I  put  a  chair  for  Teresa  on  deck,  and  gave  her  some  big 
peaches.  I  said,  '  See,  my  Carmelo  !  what  use  is  there  in 
threats  ?  You  will  not  kill  me,  and  I  shall  not  betray  you. 
You  are  a  thief,  and  a  bad  thief — by  all  the  saints  you  are — 
but  I  dare  say  you  would  not  be  much  worse  than  the  hotel' 
keepers,  if  you  could  only  keep  your  hand  off  your  knife.' 
(For  you  know,  signer,  if  you  once  enter  a  hotel  you  must 
pay  almost  a  ransom  before  you  can  get  out  again  !)  Yes — • 
and  I  reasoned  with  Carmelo  in  this  manner :  I  told  him,  '  I 
do  not  want  a  large  fortune  for  carrying  you  and  Teresa 
across  to  Termini — pay  me  the  just  passage  and  we  shall 
part  friends,  if  only  for  Teresa's  sake.'  Well,  he  was  sur- 
prised. He  smiled  that  dark  smile  of  his,  which  may  mean 
gratitude  or  murder.  He  looked  at  Teresa.  She  sprung  up 
from  her  seat,  and  let  her  peaches  fall  from  her  lap  on  the 
deck.  She  put  her  little  hands  on  mine — the  tears  were  in 
her  pretty  blue  eyes.  'You  are  a  good  man,'  she  said, 
'  Some  woman  must  love  you  very  much  ! '  Yes — she  said 
that.  And  she  was  right.  Our  Lady  be  praised  for  it !  " 

And  his  dark  eyes  glanced  upward  with  a  devout  gesture 
of  thanksgiving.  I  looked  at  him  with  a  sort  of  jealous 
hunger  gnawing  at  my  heart.  Here  was  another  self  delude4 
fool — a  fond  wretch  feasting  on  the  unsubstantial  food  of  a 
pleasant  dream — a  poor  dupe  who  believed  in  tjie  truth  Ql 
woman  1  * 


74  VENDETTA! 

"  YO&  are  a  happy  man,"  1  said  with  a  forced  smile  ;  "  you 
have  a  guiding  star  for  your  life  as  well  as  for  your  boat — a 
woman  who  loves  you  and  is  faithful  ?  is  it  so  ?  " 

He  answered  me  directly  and  simply,  raising  hi**  cap 
slightly  as  he  did  so. 

"  Yes,  signer — my  mother." 

I  was  deeply  touched  by  his  naive  and  unexpected  reply — 
more  deeply  than  I  cared  to  show.  A  bitter  regret  stirred 
in  my  soul — why,  oh,  why  had  my  mother  died  so  young  1 
Why  had  I  never  known  the  sacred  joy  that  seemed  to  vi- 
brate through  the  frame,  and  sparkle  in  the  eyes  of  this  com- 
mon sailor !  Why  must  I  be  forever  alone,  with  a  curse  of  a 
woman's  lie  on  my  life,  weighing  me  down  to  the  dust  and 
ashes  of  a  desolate  despair!  Something  in  my  face  must 
have  spoken  my  thoughts,  for  the  captain  said,  gently : 

"  The  signer  has  no  mother  ?  " 

"  She  died  when  I  was  but  a  child,"  I  answered,  briefly. 

The  Sicilian  puffed  lightly  at  his  cigarette  in  silence — the 
silence  of  an  evident  compassion.  To  relieve  him  of  his 
friendly  embarrassment,  I  said  : 

"  You  spoke  of  Teresa  ?     Who  is  Teresa  ? " 

"  Ah,  you  may  well  ask,  signer  !  No  one  knows  who  she 
is  ;  she  loves  Carmelo  Neri,  and  there  all  is  said.  Such  a  lit- 
tle thing  she  is — so  delicate  !  like  a  foam-bell  on  the  waves ; 
and  Carmelo —  You  have  seen  Carmelo,  signer  ? " 

I  shook  my  head  in  the  negative. 

"  Ebbene!  Carmelo  is  big  and  rough  and  black  like  a  wolf 
of  the  forests,  all  hair  and  fangs  ;  Teresa  is,  well !  you  have 
seen  a  little  cloud  in  the  sky  at  night,  wandering  past  the  moon 
all  flecked  with  pale  gold  ? — that  is  Teresa.  She  is  small 
and  slight  as  a  child  ;  she  has  rippling  curls,  and  soft  praying 
eyes,  and  tiny,  weak,  white  hands,  not  strong  enough  to  snap 
a  twig  in  two.  Yet  she  can  do  anything  with  Carmelo — she 
is  the  one  soft  spot  in  his  life." 

"  I  wonder  if  she  is  true  to  him,"  I  muttered,  half  to  my- 
self and  half  aloud. 

The  captain  caught  up  my  words  with  an  accent  of  surprise. 

"  True  to  him  ?  Ah,  Dio  /  but  the  signer  does  not  know 
her.  There  was  one  of  Carmelo's  own  band,  as  bold  and 
handsome  a  cut-throat  as  ever  lived — he  was  mad  for  Teresa — 
he  followed  her  everywhere  like  a  beaten  cur.  One  day  he 
found  her  alone  ;  he  tried  to  embrace  her — she  snatched  a 
knife  from  his  own  girdle  and  stabbed  him  with  it,  like  a 
Uttle  furyl  She  did  not  kill  him  then,  but  Carmelo  did 


VEND  ETTA  I  75 

afterward.  To  think  of  a  little  woman  like  that  with  such  a 
devil  in  her  !  It  is  her  boast  that  no  man,  save  Carmelo, 
has  ever  touched  so  much  as  a  ringlet  of  her  hair.  Ay  ;  she 
is  true  to  him — more's  the  pity." 

"Why — you  would  not  have  her  false  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Nay,  nay — for  a  false  woman  deserves  death — but  still  it 
is  a  pity  Teresa  should  have  fixed  her  love  on  Carmelo.  Such 
a  man  !  One  day  the  gendarmes  will  have  him,  then  he  will 
be  in  the  galleys  for  life,  and  she  will  die.  Yes — you  may  be 
sure  of  that !  If  grief  does  not  kill  her  quickly  enough,  then 
she  will  kill  herself,  that  is  certain  !  She  is  slight  and  frail  to 
look  at  as  a  flower,  but  her  soul  is  strong  as  iron.  She  will 
have  her  own  way  in  death  as  well  as  in  love — some  women 
are  made  so,  and  it  is  generally  the  weakest-looking  among 
them  who  have  the  most  courage." 

Our  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  one  of  the  sailors 
who  came  for  his  master's  orders.  The  talkative  skipper,  with 
an  apologetic  smile  and  bow,  placed  his  box  of  cigarettes 
beside  me  where  I  sat,  and  left  me  to  my  own  reflections. 

I  was  not  sorry  to  be  alone.  I  needed  a  little  breathing  time 
— a  rest  in  which  to  think,  though  my  thoughts,  like  a  new 
solar  system,  revolved  round  the  red  planet  of  one  central  idea, 
Vengeance.  "  A  false  woman  deserves  death."  Even  this 
simple  Sicilian  mariner  said  so.  "  Go  and  kill  her,  go  and  kill 
her  !  "  These  words  reiterated  themselves  over  and  over  again 
in  my  ears,  till  I  found  myself  almost  uttering  them  aloud 
My  soul  sickened  at  the  contemplation  of  the  woman  Teresa — 
the  mistress  of  a  wretched  brigand  whose  name  was  fraught 
with  horror — whose  looks  were  terrific — she,  even  she  could 
keep  herself  sacred  from  the  profaning  touch  of  other  men's 
caresses — she  was  proud  of  being  faithful  to  her  wolf  of  the 
mountains,  whose  temper  was  uncertain  and  treacherous — she 
could  make  lawful  boast  of  her  fidelity  to  her  blood-stained 
lover — while  Nina — the  wedded  wife  of  a  noble  whose  descent 
was  lofty  and  unsullied,  could  tear  off  the  fair  crown  of  honor- 
able marriage  and  cast  it  in  the  dust — could  take  the  dignity 
of  an  ancient  family  and  trample  upon  it — could  make  herself 
so  low  and  vile  that  even  this  common  Teresa,  knowing  all, 
might  and  most  probably  would,  refuse  to  touch  her  hand,  con- 
sidering it  polluted.  Just  God  !  what  had  Carmelo  Neri  done 
to  deserve  the  priceless  jewel  of  a  true  woman's  heart  ?  what 
had  /done  to  merit  such  foul  deception  as  that  which  I  was 
now  called  upon  to  avenge  ?  Suddenly  I  thought  of  my  child. 
Her  memory  came  upon  me  like  a  ray  of  light — I  had  almost 


76  VENDETTA! 

forgotten  her.  Poor  little  blossom  ! — the  slow  hot  tears  forced 
themselves  between  my  eyelids,  as  I  called  up  before  my  fancy 
the  picture  of  the  soft  baby  face — the  young  untroubled  eyes — 
the  little  coaxing  mouth  always  budding  into  innocent  kisses  ! 
What  should  I  do  with  her  ?  When  the  plan  of  punishment  I 
had  matured  in  my  brain  was  carried  out  to  its  utmost,  should 
I  take  her  with  me  far,  far  away  into  some  quiet  corner  of  the 
world,  and  devote  my  life  to  hers  ?  Alas  !  alas  !  she,  too, 
would  be  a  woman  and  beautiful — she  was  a  flower  born  of  a 
poisoned  tree,  who  could  say  that  there  might  not  be  a  canker- 
worm  hidden  even  in  her  heart,  which  waited  but  for  the  touch 
of  maturity  to  commence  its  work  of  destruction  !  Oh,  men  ! 
you  that  have  serpents  coiled  round  your  lives  in  the  shape  of 
fair  false  women — if  God  has  given  you  children  by  them,  the 
curse  descends  upon  you  doubly  !  Hide  it  as  you  will  under 
the  society  masks  we  are  all  forced  to  wear,  you  know  there  is 
nothing  morf  keenly  torturing  than  to  see  innocent  babes  look 
trustingly  in  the  deceitful  eyes  of  an  unfaithful  wife,  and 
call  her  by  the  acred  name  of  "Mother"  Eat  ashes  and 
drink  wormwood,  you  shall  find  them  sweet  in  comparison  to 
that  nauseating  bitterness  !  For  the  rest  of  the  day  I  was  very 
much  alone.  The  captain  of  the  brig  spoke  cheerily  to  me 
now  and  then,  but  we  were  met  by  light  contrary  winds  that 
necessitated  his  giving  most  of  his  attention  to  the  manage- 
ment of  his  vessel,  so  that  he  could  not  permit  himself  to 
yield  to  the  love  of  gossip  that  was  inherent  in  him.  The 
weather  was  perfect,  and  notwithstanding  our  constant  shift- 
ing and  tacking  about  to  catch  the  erratic  breeze,  the  gay 
little  brig  made  merry  and  rapid  way  over  the  sparkling 
Mediterranean,  at  a  rate  that  promised  our  arrival  at  Palermo 
by  the  sunset  of  the  following  day.  As  the  evening  came  on 
the  wind  freshened,  and  by  the  time  the  moon  soared  like  a 
large  bright  bird  into  the  sky,  we  were  scudding  along  side- 
ways, the  edge  of  our  vessel  leaning  over  to  kiss  the  waves 
that  gleamed  like  silver  and  gold,  flecked  here  and  there  with 
phosphorescent  flame.  We  skimmed  almost  under  the  bows 
of  a  magnificent  yacht — the  English  flag  floated  from  her 
mast — her  sails  glittered  purely  white  in  the  moonbeams,  and 
she  sprung  over  the  water  like  a  sea-gull.  A  man,  whose 
tall  athletic  figure  was  shown  off  to  advantage  by  the  yachting 
costume  he  wore,  stood  on  deck,  his  arm  thrown  round  the 
waist  of  a  girl  beside  him.  We  were  but  a  minute  or  two 
passing  the  stately  vessel,  yet  I  saw  plainly  this  loving  group 
of  two,  and — 1  pitied  the  man  1  Why  ?  He  was  English  un- 


VENDETTA!  77 

doubtedly — the  son  of  a  country  where  the  very  soil  is  sup- 
posed to  be  odorous  of  virtue — therefore  the  woman  beside 
him  must  be  a  perfect  pearl  of  purity  ;  an  Englishman  never 
makes  a  mistake  in  these  things  !  Never  ?  Are  you  sure  ? 
Ah,  believe  me,  there  is  not  much  difference  nowadays  be- 
tween women  of  opposite  nations.  Once  there  was — I  am 
willing  to  admit  that  possibility.  Once,  from  all  accounts 
received,  the  English  rose  was  the  fitting  emblem  of  the  Eng- 
lish woman,  but  now,  since  the  world  has  grown  so  wise  and 
made  such  progress  in  the  art  of  running  rapidly  downhill,  is 
even  the  aristocratic  British  peer  quite  easy  in  his  mind  re- 
garding  his  fair  peeress  ?  Can  he  leave  her  to  her  own  de- 
vices with  safety  ?  Are  there  not  men,  boastful  too  of  their 
"  blue  blood,"  who  are  perhaps  ready  to  stoop  to  the  thief's  trick 
of  entering  his  house  during  his  absence  by  means  of  private 
keys,  and  stealing  away  his  wife's  affections  ?— and  is  not  she, 
though  a  mother  of  three  or  four  children,  ready  to  receive 
with  favor  the  mean  robber  of  her  husband's  rights  and  honor  ? 
Read  the  London  newspapers  any  day  and  you  will  find  that 
once  "  moral "  England  is  running  a  neck  and  neck  race  with 
other  less  hypocritical  nations  in  pursuit  of  social  vice.  The 
barriers  that  once  existed  are  broken  down ;  "  professional 
beauties  "  are  received  in  circles  where  their  presence  for- 
merly would  have  been  the  signal  for  all  respectable  women 
instantly  to  retire ;  ladies  of  title  are  satisfied  to  caper  on  the 
boards  of  the  theatrical  stage,  in  costumes  that  display  their 
shape  as  undisguisedly  as  possible  to  the  eyes  of  the  grin- 
ning public,  or  they  sing  in  concert  halls  for  the  pleasure  of 
showing  themselves  off,  and  actually  accept  the  vulgar  ap- 
plause of  unwashed  crowds  with  a  smile  and  a  bow  of  grati- 
tude !  Ye  gods  !  what  has  become  of  the  superb  pride  of 
the  old  reigme — the  pride  which  disdained  all  ostentation  and 
clung  to  honor  more  closely  than  life  !  What  a  striking  sign 
of  the  times  too,  is  this :  let  a  woman  taint  her  virtue  before 
marriage,  she  is  never  forgiven— her  sin  is  never  forgotten  ; 
but  let  her  do  what  she  will  when  she  has  a  husband's  name 
to  screen  her,  and  society  winks  its  eyes  at  her  crimes. 
Couple  this  fact  with  the  general  spirit  of  mockery  that  pre- 
vails in  fashionabls  circles — mockery  of  religion,  mockery  of 
sentiment,  mockery  of  all  that  is  best  and  noblest  in  the 
human  heart — add  to  it  the  general  spread  of  "  free-thought," 
and  therefore  of  conflicting  and  unstable  opinions — let  all 
these  things  together  go  on  for  a  few  years  longer  and  Eng- 
land will  stare  at  her  sister  nations  like  a  bold  woman  in  a 


78  VENDETTA! 

domino — her  features  partly  concealed  from  a  pretense  at 
shame,  but  her  eyes  glittering  coldly  through  the  mask,  betray- 
ing to  all  who  look  at  her  how  she  secretly  revels  in  her  new 
code  of  lawlessness  coupled  with  greed.  For  she  will  always 
be  avaricious — and  the  worst  of  it  is,  that  her  nature  being 
prosaic,  there  will  be  no  redeeming  grace  to  cast  a  glamour 
about  her.  France  is  unvirtuous  enough,  God  knows,  yet 
there  is  a  sunshiny  smile  on  her  lips  that  cheers  the  heart. 
Italy  is  also  unvirtuous,  yet  her  voice  is  full  of  bird-like 
melody,  and  her  face  is  a  dream  of  perfect  poetry  !  But  Eng- 
land unvirtuous  will  be  like  a  cautiously  calculating,  some- 
what shrewish  matron,  possessed  of  unnatural  and  unbecom- 
ing friskiness,  without  either  laugh,  or  song,  or  smile — her 
one  god,  Gold,  and  her  one  commandment,  the  suggested 
eleventh,  "  Thou  shall  not  be  found  out !  " 

I  slept  that  night  on  deck.  The  captain  offered  me  the  use 
of  his  little  cabin,  and  was,  in  his  kind-hearted  manner,  truly 
distressed  at  my  persistent  refusal  to  occupy  it. 

"  It  is  bad  to  sleep  in  the  moonlight,  signer,"  he  said,  anx- 
iously. "  It  makes  men  mad,  they  say." 

I  smiled.  Had  madness  been  my  destiny,  I  should  have 
gone  mad  last  night,  I  thought ! 

"  Have  no  fear  !  "  I  answered  him,  gently.  "  The  moon- 
light is  a  joy  to  me — it  has  no  impression  on  my  mind  save 
that  of  peace.  I  shall  rest  well  here,  my  friend — do  not 
trouble  yourself  about  me." 

He  hesitated  and  then  abruptly  left  me,  to  return  in  the 
space  of  two  or  three  minutes  with  a  thick  rug  of  sheepskin. 
He  insisted  so  earnestly  on  my  accepting  this  covering  as  a 
protection  from  the  night  air,  that,  to  please  him,  I  yielded  to 
his  entreaties  and  lay  down,  wrapped  in  its  warm  folds.  The 
good-natured  fellow  then  wished  me  a  "J3uon  riposo,  signer  !  " 
and  descended  to  his  own  resting-place,  humming  a  gay  tune 
as  he  went.  From  my  recumbent  posture  on  the  deck  I 
stared  upward  at  the  myraid  stars  that  twinkled  softly  in  the 
warm  violet  skies — stared  long  and  fixedly  till  it  seemed  to  me 
that  our  ship  had  also  become  a  star,  and  was  sailing  through 
space  with  its  glittering  companions.  What  inhabitants  peo- 
pled those  fair  planets,  I  wondered  ?  Mere  men  and  women 
who  lived  and  loved  and  lied  to  one  another  as  bravely  as  we 
do  ?  or  superior  beings  to  whom  the  least  falsehood  is  un- 
known ?  Was  there  one  world  among  them  where  no  women 
were  born  ?  Vague  fancies — odd  theories — flitted  through 
my  brain.  I  lived  over  again  the  agony  of  my  imprisonment 


VENDETTA!  ft 

in  the  vaults — again  I  forced  myself  to  contemplate  the  scene 
I  had  witnessed  between  my  wife  and  her  lover — again  I 
meditated  on  every  small  detail  requisite  to  the  fulfillment  of 
the  terrible  vengeance  I  had  designed.  I  have  often  won- 
dered how,  in  countries  where  divorce  is  allowed,  a  wronged 
husband  can  satisfy  himself  with  so  meager  a  compensation 
for  his  injuries  as  the  mere  getting  rid  of  the  woman  who  has 
deceived  him.  It  is  no  punishment  to  her — it  is  what  she 
wishes.  There  is  not  even  any  very  special  disgrace  in  it  ac- 
cording to  the  present  standard  of  social  observances.  Were 
public  whipping  the  recognized  penalty  for  the  crime  of  a 
married  woman's  infidelity,  there  would  be  fewer  of  the  like 
scandals — the  divorce  might  follow  the  scourging.  A  daintily 
brought-up  feminine  creature  would  think  twice,  nay,  fifty 
times,  before  she  would  run  the  risk  of  allowing  her  deli- 
cate body  to  be  lashed  by  whips  wielded  by  the  merciless  hands 
of  a  couple  of  her  own  sex — such  a  prospect  of  degradation, 
pain,  shame,  and  outraged  vanity  would  be  more  effectual  to 
kill  the  brute  in  her  than  all  the  imposing  ceremonials  of 
courts  of  law  and  special  juries.  Think  of  it,  kings,  lords, 
and  commons !  Whipping  at  the  cart's  tail  was  once  a  legal 
punishment — if  you  would  stop  the  growing  immorality  and 
reckless  vice  of  women  you  had  best  revive  it  again — only 
apply  it  to  rich  as  well  as  to  poor,  for  it  is  most  probable  that 
the  gay  duchesses  and  countesses  of  your  lands  will  need  its 
sharp  services  more  frequently  than  the  work-worn  wives  of 
your  laboring  men.  Luxury,  idleness,  and  love  of  dress  are 
hot-beds  for  sin — look  for  it,  therefore,  not  so  much  in  the 
hovels  of  the  starving  and  naked  as  in  the  rose-tinted,  musk- 
scented  boudoirs  of  the  aristocracy — look  for  it,  as  your  brave 
physicians  would  search  out  the  seeds  of  a  pestilence  that 
threatens  to  depopulate  a  great  city,  and  trample  it  out  if  you 
can  and  will — if  you  desire  to  keep  the  name  of  your  countries 
glorious  in  the  eyes  of  future  history.  Spare  not  the  rod  be- 
cause "  my  lady  "  forsooth  !  with  her  rich  hair  falling  around 
her  in  beauteous  dishevelment  and  her  eyes  bathed  in  tears, 
implores  your  mercy — for  by  very  reason  of  her  wealth  and 
station  she  deserves  less  pity  than  the  painted  outcast  who 
knows  not  where  to  turn  for  bread.  A  high  post  demands 
high  duty  !  But  I  talk  wildly.  Whipping  is  done  away  with, 
for  women  at  least — we  give  a  well-bred  shudder  of  disgust  at 
the  thought  of  it.  When  dp  we  shudder  with  equal  disgust  at 
our  own  social  enormities  ?  "  Seldom  or  never.  Meanwhile, 
in  cases  of  infidelity,  husbands  and  wives  can  separate  and  go 


So  VENDETTA ! 

on  their  different  ways  in  comparative  peace.  Yes — some 
can  and  some  do  ;  but  I  am  not  one  of  these.  No  law  in  all  the 
world  can  mend  the  torn  flag  of  my  honor  ;  therefore  I  must 
be  a  law  to  myself — a  counsel,  a  jury,  a  judge,  all  in  one — 
and  from  my  decision  there  can  be  no  appeal !  Then  I  must 
act  as  executioner — and  what  torture  was  ever  so  perfectly 
unique  as  the  one  I  have  devised  ?  So  I  mused,  lying  broadly 
awake,  with  face  upturned  to  the  heavens,  watching  the  light 
of  the  moon  pouring  itself  out  on  the  ocean  like  a  shower  of 
gold,  while  the  water  rushed  gurgling  softly  against  the  sides 
of  the  brig,  and  broke  into  the  laughter  of  white  foam  as  we 
scudded  along. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ALL  the  next  day  the  wind  was  in  our  favor,  and  we  arrived 
at  Palermo  an  hour  before  sunset.  We  had  scarcely  run  into 
harbor  when  a  small  party  of  officers  and  gendarmes,  heavily 
laden  with  pistols  and  carbines,  came  on  board  and  showed  a 
document  authorizing  them  to  search  the  brig  for  Carmelo 
Neri.  I  was  somewhat  anxious  for  the  safety  of  my  good 
friend  the  captain — but  he  was  in  nowise  dismayed  ;  he  smiled 
and  welcomed  the  armed  emissaries  of  the  government  as 
though  they  were  his  dearest  friends. 

"  To  give  you  my  opinion  frankly,"  he  said  to  them,  as  he 
opened  a  flask  of  fine  Chianti  for  their  behoof,  "  I  believe 
the  villain  Carmelo  is  somewhere  about  Gaeta.  I  would  not 
tell  you  a  lie — why  should  I  ?  Is  there  not  a  reward  offered, 
and  am  not  I  poor  ?  Look  you,  I  would  do  my  best  to  assist 
you  !  " 

One  of  the  men  looked  at  him  dubiously. 

"  We  received  information,"  he  said,  in  precise,  business- 
like tones,  "  that  Neri  escaped  from  Gaeta  two  months  since, 
and  was  aided  and  abetted  in  his  escape  by  one  Andrea 
Luziani,  owner  of  the  coasting  brig  '  Laura,'  journeying  for 
purposes  of  trade  between  Naples  and  Palermo.  You  are 
Andrea  Luziani,  and  this  is  the  brig  *  Laura,' — we  are  right 
in  this  ;  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  As  if  you  could  ever  be  wrong,  caro  !  "  cried  the  captain 
with  undiminished  gayety,  clapping  him  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Nay,  if  .St.  Peter  should  have  the  bad  taste  to  shut  you  out 
of  heaven,  you  would  be  cunning  enough  to  find  another  and 
better  entrance  !  Ah,  Dio  !  I  believe  it !  Yes,  you  are  right 


VENDETTA !  Si 

about  my  name  and  the  name  of  my  brig,  but  in  the  other 
things," — here  he  shook  his  ringers  with  an  expressive  sign 
of  denial — "  you  are  wrong — wrong — all  wrong  !  "  He  broke 
into  a  gay  laugh.  "  Yes,  wrong — but  we  will  not  quarrel 
about  it !  Have  some  more  Chianti !  Searching  for  brig- 
ands is  thirsty  work.  Fill  your  glasses,  amid — spare  not 
the  flask — there  are  twenty  more  below  stairs  !  " 

The  officers  smiled  in  spite  of  themselves,  as  they  drank 
the  proffered  wine,  and  the  youngest-looking  of  the  party, 
a  brisk,  handsome  fellow,  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  cap- 
tain with  ardor,  though  he  evidently  thought  he  should  trap 
him  into  a  confession  unawares,  by  the  apparent  careless- 
ness and  bonhomie  of  his  manner." 

"  Bravo,  Andrea  !  "  he  cried,  merrily.  "  So  !  let  us  all  be 
friends  together  !  Besides,  what  harm  is  there  in  taking  a 
brigand  for  a  passenger — no  doubt  he  would  pay  you  better 
than  most  cargoes  !  " 

But  Andrea  was  not  to  be  so  caught.  On  the  contrary  ; 
he  raised  his  hands  and  eyes  with  an  admirably  feigned  ex- 
pression of  shocked  alarm. 

"  Our  Lady  and  the  saints  forgive  you  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
piously,  "  for  thinking  that  I,  an  honest  marinaro,  would  ac- 
cept one  baiocco  from  an  accursed  brigand  !  Ill-luck  would 
follow  me  ever  after  !  Nay,  nay — there  has  been  a  mistake  ; 
I  know  nothing  of  Carmelo  Neri,  and  I  hope  the  saints  will 
grant  that  I  may  never  meet  him  ! " 

He  spoke  with  so  much  apparent  sincerity  that  the  officers 
in  command  were  evidently  puzzled,  though  the  fact  of  their 
being  so  did  not  deter  them  from  searching  the  brig  thorough- 
ly. Disappointed  in  their  expectations,  they  questioned  all 
on  board,  including  myself,  but  were  of  course  unable  to 
obtain  any  satisfactory  replies.  Fortunately  they  accepted 
my  costume  as  a  sign  of  my  trade,  and  though  they  glanced 
curiously  at  my  white  hair,  they  seemed  to  think  there  was 
nothing  suspicious  about  me.  After  a  few  more  effusive 
compliments  and  civilities  on  the  part  of  the  captain,  they 
took  their  departure,  completely  baffled,  and  quite  convinced 
that  the  information  they  had  received  had  been  somehow 
incorrect.  As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  sight,  the  merry 
Andrea  capered  on  his  deck  like  a  child  in  a  play-ground, 
and  snapped  his  ringers  defiantly. 

"  Per  Bacco  /  "  he  cried,  ecstatically,  "  they  should  as  soon 
make  a  priest  tell  confessional  secrets,  as  force  me,  honest 
Aadrea  Luziani,  to  betray  a  man  who  has  given  me  good 
6 


82  VEND  ETTA  \ 

cigars  f  Let  them  run  back  to  Gaeta  and  hunt  in  every  hole 
and  corner !  Carmelo  may  rest  comfortably  in  the  Monte- 
maggiore  without  the  shadow  of  a  gendarme  to  disturb  him  ! 
Ah,  signer  !  "  for  I  had  advanced  to  bid  him  farewell — "  I 
am  truly  sorry  to  part  company  with  you!  You  do  not 
blame  me  for  helping-  away  a  poor  devil  who  trusts  me  ? " 

"  Not  I !  "  I  answered  him  heartily.  "  On  the  contrary,  I 
would  there  were  more  like  you.  Ad.iio  !  and  with  this," 
here  I  gave  him  the  passage-money  we  had  agreed  upon, 
"  accept  my  thanks.  I  shall  not  forget  your  kindness  •,  if 
you  ever  need  a  friend,  send  to  me." 

"  But,"  he  said,  with  a  naive  mingling  of  curiosity  and 
timidity,  "  how  can  I  do  that  if  the  signor  does  not  tell  me 
his  name  ?" 

I  had  thought  of  this  during  the  past  night.  I  knew  it 
would  be  necessary  to  take  a  different  name,  and  I  had  re- 
solved on  adopting  that  of  a  school-friend,  a  boy  to  whom  I 
had  been  profoundly  attached  in  my  earliest  youth,  and  who 
had  been  drowned  before  my  eyes  while  bathing  in  the  Vene- 
tian Lido.  So  I  answered  Andrea's  question  at  once  and 
without  effort. 

"  Ask  for  the  Count  Cesare  Oliva,"  I  said.  "  I  shall  re- 
turn to  Naples  shortly,  and  should  you  seek  me,  you  will  find 
me  there." 

The  Sicilian  doffed  his  cap  and  saluted  me  profoundly. 

"  I  guessed  well,"  he  remarked,  smilingly,  "  that  the  Sig- 
nor Conte's  hands  were  not  those  of  a  coral-fisher.  Oh,  yes ! 
I  know  a  gentleman  when  I  see  him — though  we  Sicilians 
say  we  are  all  gentlemen.  It  is  a  good  boast,  but  alas  !  not 
always  true  !  A  rivederci,  signor  !  Command  me  when  you 
will — I  am  your  servant !  " 

Pressing  his  hand,  I  sprung  lightly  from  the  brig  on  to  the 
quay. 

"  A  rivederci  /  "  I  called  to  him.  "  Again,  and  yet  again, 
a  thousand  thanks  !  " 

"Oh!  tropp  onore,  signor — tropp*  onore!"  and  thus  I  left 
him,  standing  still  bareheaded  on  the  deck  of  his  little  vessel, 
with  a  kindly  light  on  his  brown  face  like  the  reflection  of  a 
fadeless  sunbeam.  Good-hearted,  merry  rogue  !  His  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong  were  oddly  mixed — yet  his  lies  were  better 
than  many  truths  told  us  by  our  candid  friends — and  you 
may  be  certain  the  great  Recording  Angel  knows  the  differ- 
ence between  a  lie  that  saves  and  a  truth  that  kills,  and 
metes  out  Heaven's  reward  or  punishment  accordingly. 


VEND  ETTA  I  83 

My  first  care,  when  I  found  myself  in  the  streets  of 
Palermo,  was  to  purchase  clothes  of  the  best  material  and 
make  adapted  to  a  gentleman's  wear.  I  explained  to  the 
tailor  whose  shop  I  entered  for  this  purpose  that  I  had  joined 
a  party  of  coral-fishers  for  mere  amusement,  and  had  for  the 
time  adopted  their  costume.  He  believed  my  story  the  more 
readily  as  I  ordered  him  to  make  several  more  suits  for  me 
immediately,  giving  him  the  name  of  Count  Cesare  Oliva, 
and  the  address  of  the  best  hotel  in  the  city.  He  served  me 
with  obsequious  humility,  and  allowed  me  the  use  of  his 
private  back-room,  where  I  discarded  my  fisher  garb  for  the 
dress  of  a  gentleman — a  ready-made  suit  that  happened  to 
fit  me  passably  well.  Thus  arrayed  as  became  my  station,  I 
engaged  rooms  at  the  chief  hotel  of  Palermo  for  some  weeks 
— weeks  that  were  for  me  full  of  careful  preparation  for  the 
task  of  vengeful  retribution  that  lay  before  me.  One  of  my 
principal  objects  was  to  place  the  money  I  had  with  me  in 
safe  hands.  I  sought  out  the  leading  banker  in  Palermo, 
and  introducing  myself  under  my  adopted  name,  I  stated 
that  I  had  newly  returned  to  Sicily  after  some  years'  absence. 
He  received  me  well,  and  though  he  appeared  astonished  at 
the  large  amount  of  wealth  I  had  brought,  he  was  eager  and 
willing  enough  to  make  satisfactory  arrangements  with  me 
for  its  safe  keeping,  including  the  bag  of  jewels,  some  of 
which,  from  their  unusual  size  and  luster,  excited  his  genuine 
admiration.  Seeing  this,  I  pressed  on  his  acceptance  a  fine 
emerald  and  two  large  brilliants,  all  unset,  and  requested  him 
to  have  a  ring  made  of  them  for  his  own  wear.  Surprised  at 
my  generosity,  he  at  first  refused — but  his  natural  wish  to 
possess  such  rare  gems  finally  prevailed,  and  he  took  them, 
overpowering  me  with  thanks — while  I  was  perfectly  satisfied 
to  see  that  I  had  secured  his  services  so  thoroughly  by  my 
jeweled  bribe,  that  he  either  forgot,  or  else  saw  no  necessity 
to  ask  me  for  personal  references,  which  in  my  position  would 
have  been  exceeding  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  obtain. 
When  this  business  transaction  was  entirely  completed,  I 
devoted  myself  to  my  next  consideration — which  was  to  dis- 
guise myself  so  utterly  that  no  one  should  possibly  be  able 
to  recognize  the  smallest  resemblance  in  me  to  the  late  Fabio 
Romani,  either  by  look,  voice,  or  trick  of  manner.  I  had 
always  worn  a  mustache — it  had  turned  white  in  company 
with  my  hair.  I  now  allowed  my  beard  to  grow — it  came 
out  white  also.  But  in  contrast  with  these  contemporary 
signs  of  age,  my  face  began  to  fill  up  and  look  young  again  j 


84  VEND  ETTA  t 

my  eyes,  always  large  and  dark,  resumed  their  old  flashing, 
half-defiant  look — a  look,  which  it  seemed  to  me,  would  make 
some  familiar  suggestion  to  those  who  had  once  known  me 
as  I  was  before  I  died.  Yes — they  spoke  of  things  that 
must  be  forgotten  and  unuttered  •,  what  should  I  do  with 
these  tell-tale  eyes  of  mine  ? 

I  thought,  and  soon  decided.  Nothing  was  easier  than  to 
feign  weak  sight — sight  that  was  dazzled  by  the  heat  and 
brilliancy  of  the  southern  sunshine ;  I  would  wear  smoke- 
colored  glasses.  I  bought  them  as  soon  as  the  idea  occur- 
red to  me,  and  alone  in  my  room  before  the  mirror  I  tried 
their  effect.  I  was  satisfied  ;  they  perfectly  completed  the 
disguise  of  n;y  face.  With  them  and  my  white  hair  and 
beard,  I  looked  like  a  well-preserved  man  of  fifty-five  or  so, 
whose  only  physical  ailment  was  a  slight  affection  of  the 
eyes. 

The  next  thing  to  alter  was  my  voice.  I  had,  naturally, 
a  peculiarly  soft  voice  and  a  rapid,  yet  clear,  enunciation, 
and  it  was  my  habit,  as  it  is  the  habit  of  almost  every  Italian, 
to  accompany  my  words  with  the  expressive  pantomime  of 
gesture.  I  took  myself  in  training  as  an  actor  studies  for  a 
particular  part.  I  cultivated  a  harsh  accent,  and  spoke  with 
deliberation  and  coldness — occasionally  with  a  sort  of  sarcas 
tic  brusquerie,  carefully  avoiding  the  least  movement  of  hands 
or  head  during  converse.  This  was  exceedingly  difficult  of 
attainment  to  me,  and  took  me  an  infinite  deal  of  time  and 
trouble ;  but  I  had  for  my  model  a  middle-aged  Englishman 
who  was  staying  in  the  same  hotel  as  myself,  and  whose 
starched  stolidity  never  relaxed  for  a  single  instant.  He  was 
a  human  iceberg — perfectly  respectable,  with  that  air  <of 
decent  gloom  about  him  which  is  generally  worn  by  all  the 
sons  of  Britain  while  sojourning  in  a  foreign  clime.  I  copied 
his  manners  as  closely  as  possible  ;  I  kept  my  mouth  shut 
with  the  same  precise  air  of  not-to-be-en  lightened  obstinacy 
— I  walked  with  the  same  upright  drill  demeanor — and  I  sur- 
veyed the  scenery  with  the  same  superior  contempt.  I  knew 
I  had  succeeded  at  last,  for  I  overneard  a  waiter  speaking  of 
me  to  his  companion  as  "  the  wnite  bear  !  " 

One  other  thing  I  did.  I  wrote  a  courteous  note  to  the 
editor  of  the  principal  newspaper  published  in  Naples— a 
newspaper  that  I  knew  always  found  its  way  to  the  Villa 
Romani — and  inclosing  fifty  francs,  I  requested  him  to  insert 
a  paragraph  for  me  in  his  next  issue.  This  paragraph  wa* 
worded  somewhat  as  follows : 


VENDETTA !  85 

"  The  Signer  Conte  Cesare  Oliva,  a  nobleman  who  has 
been  for  many  years  absent  from  his  native  country,  has, 
we  understand,  just  returned,  possessed  of  almost  fabulous 
wealth,  and  is  about  to  arrive  in  Naples,  where  he  purposes 
making  his  home  for  the  future.  The  leaders  of  society  here 
will  no  doubt  welcome  with  enthusiasm  so  distinguished  an 
addition  to  the  brilliant  circles  commanded  by  their  influ- 
ence." 

The  editor  obeyed  my  wishes,  and  inserted  what  I  sent 
him,  word  for  word  as  it  was  written.  He  sent  me  the  paper 
containing  it  "  with  a  million  compliments,"  but  was  dis- 
creetly silent  concerning  the  fifty  francs,  though  I  am  certain 
he  pocketed  them  with  unaffected  joy.  Had  I  sent  him 
double  the  money,  he  might  have  been  induced  to  announce 
me  as  a  king  or  emperor  in  disguise.  Editors  of  newspapers 
lay  claim  to  be  honorable  men ;  they  may  be  so  in  England, 
but  in  Italy  most  of  them  would  do  anything  for  money. 
Poor  devils  !  who  can  blame  them,  considering  how  little 
they  get  by  their  limited  dealings  in  pen  and  ink!  In  fact, 
I  am  not  at  all  certain  but  that  a  few  English  newspaper 
editors  might  be  found  capable  of  accepting  a  bribe,  if  large 
enough,  and  if  offered  with  due  delicacy.  There  are  surely 
one  or  two  magazines,  for  instance,  in  London,  that  would 
not  altogether  refuse  to  insert  an  indifferently,  even  badly 
written  article,  if  paid  a  thousand  pounds  down  for  doing 
it  ! 

On  the  last  day  but  one  of  my  sojourn  in  Palermo  I  was 
reclining  in  an  easy-chair  at  the  window  of  the  hotel  smok- 
ing-room, looking  out  on  the  shimmering  waters  of  the  gulf. 
It  was  nearly  eight  o'clock,  and  though  the  gorgeous  colors 
of  the  sunset  still  lingered  in  the  sky,  the  breeze  blew  in  from 
the  sea  somewhat  coldly,  giving  warning  of  an  approaching 
chilly  night.  The  character  I  had  adopted,  namely  that  of  a 
somewhat  harsh  and  cynical  man  who  had  seen  life  and  did 
not  like  it,  had  by  constant  hourly  practice  become  with  me 
almost  second  nature — indeed,  I  should  have  had  some 
difficulty  in  returning  to  the  easy  and  thoughtless  abandon 
of  my  former  self.  I  had  studied  the  art  of  being  churlish 
till  I  really  was  churlish ;  I  had  to  act  the  chief  character  in 
a  drama,  and  I  knew  my  part  thoroughly  well.  I  sat  quietly 
puffing  at  my  cigar  and  thinking  of  nothing  in  particular — for, 
as  far  as  my  plans  went,  I  had  done  with  thought,  and  all  my 
energies  were  strung  up  to  action — when  I  was  startled  by  a 
loud  and  increasing  clamor,  as  of  the  shouting  of  a  large 


86  VENDETTA! 

crowd  coming  onward  like  an  overflowing  tide.  I  leaned 
out  of  the  window,  but  could  see  nothing,  and  I  was  wonder- 
ing what  the  noise  could  mean,  when  an  excited  waiter  threw 
open  the  door  of  the  smoking-room  and  cried,  breathlessly : 

"  Carmelo  Neri,  signer  !  Carmelo  Neri !  They  have  him, 
fovcrino  !  they  have  him  at  last !  " 

Though  almost  as  strongly  interested  in  this  news  as  the 
waiter  himself,  I  did  not  permit  my  interest  to  become  mani- 
fest. I  never  forgot  for  a  second  the  character  I  had 
assumed,  and  drawing  the  cigar  slowly  from  my  lips  I  merely 
said  : 

"  Then  they  have  caught  a  great  rascal.  I  congratulate 
the  Government !  Where  is  the  fellow  ? " 

"  In  the  great  square,"  returned  \htgarfon,  eagerly.  "  If 
the  signer  would  walk  round  the  corner  he  would  see  Car- 
melo, bound  and  fettered.  The  saints  have  mercy  upon 
him !  The  crowds  there  are  thick  as  flies  round  a  honey- 
comb !  I  must  go  thither  myself — I  would  not  miss  the 
sight  for  a  thousand  francs !  " 

And  he  ran  off,  as  full  of  the  anticipated  delight  of  looking 
at  a  brigand  as  a  child  going  to  its  first  fair.  I  put  on  my  hat 
and  strolled  leisurely  round  to  the  scene  of  excitement.  It 
was  a  picturesque  sight  enough  ;  the  square  was  black  with  a 
sea  of  eager  heads,  and  restless,  gesticulating  figures,  and  the 
center  of  this  swaying,  muttering  crowd  was  occupied  by  a 
compact  band  of  mounted  gendarmes  with  drawn  swords  flash- 
ing in  the  pale  evening  light — both  horses  and  men  nearly  as 
motionless  as  though  cast  in  bronze.  They  were  stationed  op- 
posite the  head-quarters  of  thzCarabinieri,  where  the  chief 
o^icer  of  the  party  had  dismounted  to  make  his  formal  report 
respecting  the  details  of  the  capture  before  proceeding  further. 
Between  these  armed  and  watchful  guards,  with  his  legs 
strapped  to  a  sturdy  mule,  his  arms  tied  fast  behind  him,  and 
his  hands  heavily  manacled,  was  the  notorious  Neri,  as  dark 
and  fierce  as  a  mountain  thunder-storm.  His  head  was  uncov- 
ered— his  thick  hair,  long  and  unkempt,  hung  in  matted  locks 
upon  his  shoulders — his  heavy  mustachios  and  beard  were  so 
black  and  bushy  that  they  almost  concealed  his  coarse  and 
forbidding  features — though  I  could  see  the  tiger-like  glitter 
of  his  sharp  white  teeth  as  he  bit  and  gnawed  his  under  lip  in 
impotent  fury  and  despair — and  his  eyes,  like  leaping  flames, 
blazed  with  a  wrathful  erocity  from  under  his  shaggy  brows. 
He  was  a  huge,  heavy  man,  broad  and  muscular ;  his  two 
great  hands  clinched,  tied  and  manacled  behind  him,  looked 


VENDETTA!  87 

like  formidable  hammers  capable  of  striking  a  man  down  dead 
at  one  blow ;  his  whole  aspect  was  repulsive  and  terrible — 
there  was  no  redeeming  point  about  him — for  even  the 
apparent  fortitude  he  assumed  was  mere  bravado — meretri- 
cious courage — which  the  first  week  of  the  galleys  would  crush 
out  of  him  as  easily  as  one  crushes  the  juice  out  of  a  ripe 
grape.  He  wore  a  nondescript  costume  of  vari-colored  linen, 
arranged  in  folds  that  would  have  been  the  admiration  of  an 
artist.  It  was  gathered  about  him  by  means  of  a  brilliant 
scarlet  sash  negligently  tied.  His  brawny  arms  were  bare  to 
the  shoulder — his  vest  was  open,  and  displayed  his  strong 
brown  throat  and  chest  heaving  with  the  pent-up  anger  and 
fear  that  raged  within  him.  His  dark  grim  figure  was  set  off 
by  a  curious  effect  of  color  in  the  sky — a  long  wide  band  of 
crimson  cloud,  as  though  the  sun-god  had  thrown  down  a 
goblet  of  ruby  wine  and  left  it  to  trickle  along  the  smooth 
blue  fairness  of  his  palace  floor — a  deep  after-glow,  which 
burned  redly  on  the  olive-tinted  eager  faces  of  the  multitude 
that  were  everywhere  upturned  in  wonder  and  ill-judged 
admiration  to  the  brutal  blackface  of  the  notorious  murderer 
and  thief,  whose  name  had  for  years  been  the  terror  of  Sicily. 
I  pressed  through  the  crowd  to  obtain  a  nearer  view,  and  as 
I  did  so  a  sudden  savage  movement  of  Neri's  bound  body 
caused  the  gendarmes  to  cross  their  swords  in  front  of  his 
eyes  with  a  warning  clash.  The  brigand  laughed  hoarsely. 

"  Corpo  di  Cristo  !  "  he  muttered — "think  you  a  man  tied 
hand  and  foot  can  run  like  a  deer  ?  I  am  trapped — I  know 
it !  But  tell  him"  and  he  indicated  some  person  in  the 
throng  by  a  nod  of  his  head,  "tell  him  to  come  hither — I 
have  a  message  for  him." 

The  gendarmes  looked  at  one  another,  and  then  at  the 
swaying  crowd  about  them  in  perplexity — they  did  not  under- 
stand. 

Carmelo,  without  wasting  more  words  upon  them,  raised 
himself  as  uprightly  as  he  could  in  his  strained  and  bound 
position,  and  called  aloud  : 

"  Luigi  Biscardi  !  Capitano !  Oh  he — you  thought  I 
could  not  see  you !  Dio !  I  should  know  you  in  hell  I 
Come  near  I  have  a  parting  word  for  you." 

At  the  sound  of  his  strong  harsh  voice,  a  silence  half  of  ter- 
ror, half  of  awe,  fell  upon  the  chattering  multitude.  There 
was  a  sudden  stir  as  the  people  made  way  for  a  young  man 
to  pass  through  their  ranks — a  slight,  tall,  rather  handsome 
fellow,  with  a  pale,  face  and  cold,  sneering  eyes.  He  was 


38  VENDETTA! 

dressed  with  fastidious  care  and  neatness  in  the  uniform  of 
the  Bersaglicrc — and  he  elbowed  his  way  along  with  the  easy 
audacity  of  a  privileged  dandy.  He  came  close  up  to  the 
brigand  and  spoke  carelessly,  with  a  slightly  mocking  smile 
playing  round  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"  Ebbene  /  "  he  said,  "  you  are  caught  at  last,  Carmelo  ! 
You  called  me — here  I  am.  What  do  you  want  with  me, 
rascal  ?  " 

Neri  uttered  a  ferocious  curse  between  his  teeth,  and 
looked  for  an  instant  like  a  wild  beast  ready  to  spring. 

"  You  betrayed  me,"  he  said  in  fierce  yet  smothered 
accents — "you  followed  me — you  hunted  me  down  !  Teresa 
told  me  all.  Yes — she  belongs  to  you  now — you  have  got 
your  wish.  Go  and  take  her — she  waits  for  you — make  her 
speak  and  tell  you  how  she  loves  you — if  you  can  I " 

Something  jeering  and  withal  threatening  in  the  ruffian's 
look,  evidently  startled  the  young  officer,  for  he  exclaimed 
hastily  : 

"  What  do  you  mean,  wretch  ?  You  have  not — my  God  1 
vou  have  not  killed  her  ? " 

Carmelo  broke  into  a  loud  savage  laugh. 

"  She  has  killed  herself  !  "  he  cried,  exultingly.  "  Ha,  ha, 
I  thought  you  would  wince  at  that !  She  snatched  my  knife 
and  stabbed  herself  with  it !  Yes — rather  than  see  your 
lying  white  face  again — rather  than  feel  your  accursed  touch  1 
Find  her — she  lies  "dead  and  smiling  up  there  in  the  mount- 
ains and  her  last  kiss  was  for  me — for  me — you  understand! 
Now  go  !  and  may  the  devil  curse  you !  " 

Again  the  gendarmes  clashed  their  swords  suggestively — 
and  the  brigand  resumed  his  sullen  attitude  of  suppressed 
wrath  and  feigned  indifference.  But  the  man  to  whom  he 
had  spoken  staggered  and  seemed  about  to  fall — his  pale 
face  grew  paler — he  moved  away  through  the  curious  open- 
eyed  by-standers  with  the  mechanical  air  of  one  who  knows 
not  whether  he  be  alive  or  dead.  He  had  evidently  received 
an  unexpected  shock — a  wound  that  pierced  deeply  and  would 
be  a  long  time  healing. 

I  approached  the  nearest  gendarme  and  slipped  a  five- 
france  piece  into  his  hand. 

"  May  one  speak  ? "  I  asked,  carelessly.  The  man  hesitated. 

"  For  one  instant,  signer.     But  be  brief. 

I  addressed  the  brigand  in  a  low  clear-tone. 

"  Have  you  any  message  for  one  Andrea  Luziani  ?  I  am  a 
friend  of  his." 


VENDETTA!  89 

He  looked  at  me  and  a  dark  smile  crossed  his  features. 

"  Andrea  is  a  good  soul.  Tell  him  if  you  will  that  Teresa 
is  dead.  I  am  worse  than  dead.  He  will  know  that  I  did 
not  kill  Teresa.  I  could  not !  She  had  the  knife  in  her 
breast  before  I  could  prevent  her.  It  is  better  so." 

"  She  did  that  rather  than  become  the  property  of  another 
man  ?  "  I  queried. 

Carmelo  Neri  nodded  in  acquiescence.  Either  my  sight 
deceived  me,  or  else  this  abandoned  villain  had  tears  glitter- 
ing in  the  depth  of  his  wicked  eyes. 

The  gendarme  made  me  a  sign,  and  I  withdrew.  Almost 
at  the  same  moment  the  officer  in  command  of  the  little  de- 
tachment appeared,  his  spurs  clinking  with  measured  metallic 
music  on  the  hard  stones  of  the  pavement — he  sprung  into 
his  saddle  and  gave  the  word — the  crowd  dispersed  to  the 
right  and  left — the  horses  were  put  to  a  quick  trot,  and  in  a 
few  moments  the  whole  party  with  the  bulky  frowning  form 
of  the  brigand  in  their  midst  had  disappeared.  The  people 
broke  up  into  little  groups  talking  excitedly  of  what  had  oc- 
curred, and  scattered  here  and  there,  returning  to  their  homes 
and  occupations — and  more  swiftly  than  one  could  have  im- 
agined possible,  the  great  square  was  left  almost  empty.  I 
paced  up  and  down  for  awhile  thinking  deeply;  I  had  before 
my  mind's  eye  the  picture  of  the  slight  fair  Teresa  as  de- 
scribed by  the  Sicilian  captain,  lying  dead  in  the  solitudes 
of  the  Montemaggiore  with  that  self-inflicted  wound  in  her 
breast  which  had  set  her  free  of  all  men's  love  and  persecu- 
tion. There  were  some  women  then  who  preferred  death  to 
infidelity  ?  Strange  !  very  strange  !  common  women  of  course 
they  must  be — such  as  this  brigand's  mistress  ;  your  daintily 
fed,  silk-robed  duchess  would  find  a  dagger  somewhat  a 
vulgar  consoler — she  would  rather  choose  a  lover,  or  better 
still  a  score  of  lovers.  It  is  only  brute  ignorance  that  selects 
a  grave  instead  of  dishonor — modern  education  instructs  us 
more  wisely,  and  teaches  us  not  to  be  over-squeamish  about 
such  a  trifle  as  breaking  a  given  word  or  promise.  Blessed 
age  of  progress  !  Age  of  steady  advancement  when  the 
apple  of  vice  is  so  cunningly  disguised  and  so  prettily  painted 
that  we  can  actually  set  it  on  a  porcelain  dish  and  hand  it 
about  among  our  friends  as  a  valuable  and  choice  fruit  of 
virtue — and  no  one  finds  out  the  fraud  we  are  practicing, 
nay,  we  scarcely  perceive  it  ourselves,  it  is  such  an  excellent 
counterfeit ! 

As  I  walked  to  and  fro,  I  found  myself  continually  passing 


90  VENDETTA  t 

the  head  office  of  the  Carabinieri,  and,  acting  on  a  sudden 
impulse  of  curiosity,  I  at  last  entered  the  building,  determined 
to  ask  for  a  few  particulars  concerning  the  brigand's  capture. 
I  was  received  by  a  handsome  and  intelligent-looking  man, 
who  glanced  at  the  card  with  which  I  presented  myself,  and 
saluted  me  with  courteous  affability. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  he  said,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries,  "  Neri  has 
given  us  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  But  we  had  our  suspicions 
that  he  had  left  Gaeta,  where  he  was  for  a  time  in  hiding.  A 
few  stray  bits  of  information  gleaned  here  and  there  put  us 
on  the  right  track." 

"  Was  he  caught  easily,  or  did  he  show  fight  ? " 

"  He  gave  himself  up  like  a  lamb,  signor  !  It  happened  in 
th's  way.  One  of  our  men  followed  the  woman  who  lived 
with  Neri,  one  Teresa,  and  traced  her  up  to  a  certain  point, 
the  corner  of  a  narrow  mountain  pass — where  she  disappeared. 
He  reported  this,  and  thereupon  we  sent  out  an  armed  party. 
These  crept  at  midnight  two  by  two,  till  they  were  formed  in 
a  close  ring  round  the  place  where  Neri  was  judged  to  be. 
With  the  first  beam  of  morning  they  rushed  in  upon  him  and 
took  him  prisoner.  It  appears  that  he  showed  no  surprise — 
he  merely  said,  '  I  expected  you  ! '  He  was  found  sitting  by 
the  dead  body  of  his  mistress  ;  she  was  stabbed  and  newly 
bleeding.  No  doubt  he  killed  her,  though  he  swears  the  con- 
trary— lies  are  as  easy  to  him  as  breathing." 

"  But  where  were  his  comrades  ?  I  thought  he  commanded 
A  large  band  ?  " 

"  So  he  did,  signor  ;  and  we  caught  three  of  the  principals 
only  a  fortnight  ago,  but  of  the  others  no  trace  can  be  found. 
I  suppose  Carmelo  himself  dismissed  them  and  sent  them 
far  and  wide  through  the  country.  At  any  rate,  they  are 
disbanded,  and  with  these  sort  of  fellows,  where  there  is  no 
union  there  is  no  danger." 

"  And  Neri's  sentence  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  the  galleys  for  life  of  course  ;  there  is  no  possible 
alternative." 

I  thanked  my  informant,  and  left  the  office.  I  was  glad  to 
have  learned  these  few  particulars,  for  the  treasure  I  had  dis- 
covered in  my  own  family  vault  was  now  more  mine  than  ever. 
There  was  not  the  remotest  chance  of  any  one  of  the  Neri 
band  venturing  so  close  to  Naples  in  search  of  it,  and  I 
thought  with  a  grim  smile  that  had  the  brigand  chief  himself 
known  the  story  of  my  wrongs,  he  would  most  probably  have 
rejoiced  to  think  that  his  buried  wealth  was  destined  to  aid 


VENDETTA!  9* 

me  in  carrying  out  so  elaborate  a  plan  of  vengeance.  All 
difficulties  smoothed  themselves  before  me — obstacles  were 
taken  out  of  my  path — my  way  was  made  perfectly  clear — each 
trifling  incident  was  a  new  finger-post  pointing  out  the  direct 
road  that  led  me  to  the  one  desired  end.  God  himself  seemed 
on  my  side,  as  He  is  surely  ever  on  the  side  of  justice  !  Let 
not  the  unfaithful  think  that  because  they  say  long  prayers 
or  go  regularly  and  devoutly  to  church  with  meek  faces  and 
piously  folded  hands  that  the  Eternal  Wisdom  is  deceived 
thereby.  My  wife  could  pray — she  could  kneel  like  a  lovely 
saint  in  the  dim  religious  light  of  the  sacred  altars,  her  deep 
eyes  upturned  to  the  blameless,  infinitely  reproachful  Christ 
— and  look  you  !  each  word  she  uttered  was  a  blasphemy, 
destined  to  come  back  upon  herself  as  a  curse.  Prayer  is 
dangerous  for  liars — it  is  like  falling  willfully  on  an  upright 
naked  sword.  Used  as  an  honorable  weapon  the  sword  de- 
fends— snatched  up  as  the  last  resource  of  a  coward  it  kills. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  third  week  of  September  was  drawing  to  its  close 
*hen  I  returned  to  Naples.  The  weather  had  grown  cooler, 
and  favorable  reports  of  the  gradual  decrease  of  the  cholera 
began  to  gain  ground  with  the  suffering  and  terrified  popu- 
lation. Business  was  resumed  as  usual,  pleasure  had  again 
her  votaries,  and  society  whirled  round  once  more  in  its 
giddy  waltz  as  though  it  had  never  left  off  dancing.  I  arrived 
in  the  city  somewhat  early  in  the  day,  and  had  time  to  make 
some  preliminary  arrangements  for  my  plan  of  action.  I 
secured  the  most  splendid  suite  of  apartments  in  the  best 
hotel,  impressing  the  whole  establishment  with  a  vast  idea 
of  my  wealth  and  importance.  I  casually  mentioned  to  the 
landlord  that  I  desired  to  purchase  a  carriage  and  horses — 
that  I  needed  a  first-class  valet,  and  a  few  other  trifles  of  the 
like  sort,  and  added  that  I  relied  on  his  good  advice  and 
recommendation  as  to  the  places  where  I  should  best  obtain 
all  that  I  sought.  Needless  to  say,  he  became  my  slave — 
never  was  monarch  better  served  than  I — the  very  waiters 
hustled  each  other  in  a  race  to  attend  upon  me,  and  reports 
of  my  princely  fortune,  generosity,  and  lavish  expenditure, 
began  to  flit  from  mouth  to  mouth — which  was  the  result  \ 
desired  to  obtain, 


£t  VENDETTA  I 

And  now  the  evening  of  my  first  day  in  Naples  came,  and 
I,  the  supposed  Conte  Cesare  Oliva,  the  envied  and  flattered 
noble,  took  the  first  step  toward  my  vengeance.  It  was  one 
of  the  loveliest  evenings  possible,  even  in  that  lovely  land — a 
soft  breeze  blew  in  from  the  sea — the  sky  was  pearl-like  and 
pure  as  an  opal,  yet  bright  with  delicate  shifting  clouds  of 
crimson  and  pale  mauve — small,  fleecy  flecks  of  radiance, 
that  looked  like  a  shower  of  blossoms  fallen  from  some  far 
invisible  flower-land.  The  waters  of  the  bay  were  slightly 
ruffled  by  the  wind,  and  curled  into  tender  little  dark-blue 
waves  tipped  with  light  fringes  of  foam.  After  my  dinner  I 
went  out  and  took  my  way  to  a  well-known  and  popular  cafe 
which  used  to  be  a  favorite  haunt  of  mine  in  the  days  when 
I  was  known  as  Fabio  Romani.  Guido  Ferrari  was  a  con- 
stant habitue  of  the  place,  and  I  felt  that  I  should  find  him 
there.  The  brilliant  rose-white  and  gold  saloons  were  crowded, 
and  owing  to  the  pleasant  coolness  of  the  air  there  were 
hundreds  of  little  tables  pushed  far  out  into  the  street,  at 
which  groups  of  persons  were  seated,  enjoying  ices,  wine,  or 
coffee,  and  congratulating  each  other  on  the  agreeable  news 
of  the  steady  decrease  of  the  pestilence  that  had  ravaged  the 
city.  I  glanced  covertly  yet  quickly  round.  Yes  !  I  was 
not  mistaken — there  was  my  quondam  friend,  my  traitorous 
foe,  sitting  at  his  ease,  leaning  comfortably  back  in  one  chair, 
his  feet  put  up  on  another.  He  was  smoking,  and  prancing 
now  and  then  through  the  columns  of  the  Paris  "  Figaro." 
He  was  dressed  entirely  in  black — a  hypocritical  livery,  the 
somber  hue  of  which  suited  his  fine  complexion  and  perfectly 
handsome  features  to  admiration.  On  the  little  finger  of  the 
shapely  hand  that  every  now  and  then  was  raised  to  adjust 
his  cigar,  sparkled  a  diamond  that  gave  out  a  myriad  scintil- 
lations as  it  flashed  in  the  evening  light — it  was  of  ex- 
ceptional size  and  brilliancy,  and  even  at  a  distance  I  recog- 
nized it  as  my  own  property  ! 

So  ! — a  love-gift,  signor,  or  an  in  memoriam  of  the  dear  and 
valued  friend  you  have  lost  ?  I  wondered — watching  him  in 
dark  scorn  the  while — then  recollecting  myself,  1  sauntered 
slowly  toward  him,  and  perceiving  a  disengaged  table  next  to 
his,  I  drew  a  chair  to  it  and  sat  down.  He  looked  at  me  in- 
differently over  the  top  of  his  newspaper — but  there  was 
nothing  specially  attractive  in  the  sight  of  a  white-haired  man 
wearing  smoke-colored  spectacles,  and  he  resumed  his  perusal 
of  the  "  Figaro  "  immediately.  I  rapped  the  end  of  my  walk- 
ing-cane on  the  table  and  summoned  a  waiter  from  whom  I 


VENDETTA!  93 

ordered  coffee.  I  then  lighted  a  cigar,  and  imitating  Fer- 
rari's easy  posture,  smoked  also.  Something  in  my  attitude 
then  appeared  to  strike  him,  for  he  laid  down  his  paper  and 
again  looked  at  me,  this  time  with  more  interest  and  some- 
thing of  uneasiness.  "Ca  commence,  man  ami/"  I  thought, 
but  I  turned  my  head  slightly  aside  and  feigned  to  be 
absorbed  in  the  view.  My  coffee  was  brought — I  paid  for 
it  and  tossed  the  waiter  an  unusually  large  gratuity — he 
naturally  found  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  polish  my  table 
with  extra  zeal,  and  to  secure  all  the  newspapers,  pictorial  or 
otherwise,  that  were  lying  about,  for  the  purpose  of  obse- 
quiously depositing  them  in  a  heap  at  my  right  hand.  I  ad- 
dressed this  amiable  garden  in  the  harsh  and  deliberate 
accents  of  my  carefully  disguised  voice. 

"  By  the  way,  I  suppose  you  know  Naples  well  ?  " 

"  Oh,  si,  signor  /  " 

"  Ebbene,  can  you  tell  me  the  way  to  the  house  of  one 
Count  Fabio  Romani,  a  wealthy  nobleman  of  this  city  ?  " 

Ha  !  a  good  hit  this  time  !  Though  apparently  not  look- 
ing at  him  I  saw  Ferrari  start  as  though  he  had  been  stung, 
and  then  compose  himself  in  his  seat  with  an  air  of  attention. 
The  waiter  meanwhile,  in  answer  to  my  question,  raised  his 
hands,  eyes  and  shoulders  all  together  with  a  shrug  expres- 
sive of  resigned  melancholy. 

"  Ah,  gran  Dio  / t  morto  /  " 

"  Dead  !  "  I  exclaimed,  with  a  pretended  start  of  shocked 
surprise.  "  So  young  ?  Impossible  !  " 

"  Eh  !  what  will  you,  signor  ?  It  was  la  pesta  ;  there  was 
no  remedy.  La  pesta  cares  nothing  for  youth  or  age,  and 
spares  neither  rich  nor  poor." 

For  a  moment  I  leaned  my  head  on  my  hand,  affecting  to 
be  overcome  by  the  suddenness  of  the  news.  Then  looking 
up,  I  said,  regretfully : 

"  Alas  !  I  am  too  late  !  I  was  a  friend  of  his  father's.  I 
have  been  away  for  many  years,  and  I  had  a  great  wish  to 
meet  the  young  Romani  whom  I  last  saw  as  a  child.  Are 
there  any  relations  of  his  living — was  he  married  ?  " 

The  waiter,  whose  countenance  had  assumed  a  fitting  lugu- 
briousness  in  accordance  with  what  he  imagined  were  my 
feelings,  brightened  up  immediately  as  he  replied  eagerly : 

"  Oh,  si,  signor  !  The  Contessa  Romani  lives  up  at  the 
villa,  though  I  believe  she  receives  no  one  since  her  hus- 
band's death.  She  is  young  and  beautiful  as  an  angel* 
There  is  a  little  child  too." 


94  VENDETTA! 

A  hasty  movement  on  the  part  of  Ferrari  caused  me  to 
turn  my  eyes,  or  rather  my  spectacles,  in  his  direction.  He 
leaned  forward,  and  raising  his  hat  with  the  old  courteous 
grace  I  knew  so  well,  said  politely : 

"  Pardon  me,  signer,  for  interrupting  you  !  I  knew  the 
late  young  Count  Romani  well — perhaps  better  than  any  man 
in  Naples.  I  shall  be  delighted  to  afford  you  any  information 
you  may  seek  concerning  him." 

Oh,  the  old  mellow  music  of  his  voice — how  it  struck  or 
my  heart  and  pierced  it  like  the  refrain  of  a  familiar  song 
loved  in  the  days  of  our  youth.  For  an  instant  I  could  not 
speak — wrath  and  sorrow  choked  my  utterance.  Fortunately 
this  feeling  was  but  momentary — slowly  I  raised  my  hat  in 
response  to  his  salutation,  and  answered  stiffly  : 

"  I  am  your  servant,  signer.  You  will  oblige  me  indeed  if 
you  can  place  me  in  communication  with  the  relatives  of  this 
unfortunate  young  nobleman.  The  elder  Count  Romani  was 
dearer  to  me  than  a  brother — men  have  such  attachments 
occasionally.  Permit  me  to  introduce  myself,"  and  I  handed 
him  my  visiting-card  with  a  slight  and  formal  bow.  He  ac- 
cepted it,  and  as  he  read  the  name  it  bore  he  gave  me  a 
quick  glance  of  respect  mingled  with  pleased  surprise. 

"The  Conte  Cesare  Oliva  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "I  esteem 
myself  most  fortunate  to  have  met  you  !  Your  arrival  has 
already  been  notified  to  us  by  the  avant-courier  of  the  fashion- 
able intelligence,  so  that  we  are  well  aware,"  here  laughing 
lightly,  "  of  the  distinctive  right  you  have  to  a  hearty  welcome 
in  Naples.  I  am  only  sorry  that  any  distressing  news  should 
have  darkened  the  occasion  of  your  return  here  after  so  long 
an  absence.  Permit  me  to  express  the  hope  that  it  may  at 
least  be  the  only  cloud  for  you  on  our  southern  sunshine !  " 

And  he  extended  his  hand  with  that  ready  frankness  and 
bonhomie  which  are  always  a  part  of  the  Italian  temperament, 
and  were  especially  so  of  his.  A  cold  shudder  ran  through 
my  veins.  God  !  could  I  take  his  hand  in  mine  ?  I  must — 
if  I  would  act  my  part  thoroughly — for  should  I  refuse  he 
would  think  it  strange — even  rude — I  should  lose  the  game 
by  one  false  move.  With  a  forced  smile  I  hesitatingly  held 
out  my  hand  also— it  was  gloved,  yet  as  he  clasped  it  heartily 
in  his  own  the  warm  pressure  burned  through  the  glove  like 
fire.  I  could  have  cried  out  in  agony,  so  excruciating  was 
the  mental  torture  which  I  endured  at  that  moment.  But  it 
oassed,  the  ordeal  was  over,  and  I  knew  that  from  hence- 
forth 1  should  be  able  to  shake  hands  with  him  as  often  and 


VENDETTA!  95 

as  indifferently  as  with  any  other  man.  It  was  only  ihisjirst 
time  that  it  galled  me  to  the  quick.  Ferrari  noticed  nothing 
of  my  emotion — he  was  in  excellent  spirits,  and  turning  to 
the  waiter,  who  had  lingered  to  watch  us  make  each  other's 
acquaintance,  he  exclaimed : 

"  More  coffee,  gar$o?i,  and  a  couple  of  glorias"  Then 
looking  toward  me,  "  You  do  not  object  to  a  gloria,  conte  ? 
No  ?  That  is  well.  And  here  is  my  card,"  taking  one  from 
his  pocket  and  laying  it  on  the  table.  "  Guido  Ferrari,  at 
your  service,  an  artist  and  a  very  poor  one.  We  shall  cele- 
brate our  meeting  by  drinking  each  other's  health  !  " 

I  bowed.  The  waiter  vanished  to  execute  his  orders  and 
Ferrari  drew  his  chair  closer  to  mine. 

"  I  see  you  smoke,"  he  said,  gayly.  **  Can  I  offer  you  one 
of  my  cigars  ?  They  are  unusually  choice.  Permit  me," 
and  he  proffered  me  a  richly  embossed  and  emblazoned  silver 
cigar-case,  with  the  Romani  arms  and  coronet  and  my  own 
initials  engraved  thereon.  It  was  mine,  of  course — I  took  it 
with  a  sensation  of  grim  amusement — I  had  not  seen  it  since 
the  day  I  died  ! 

"  A  fine  antique,"  I  remarked,  carelessly,  turning  it  over 
and  over  in  my  hand,  "  curious  and  valuable.  A  gift  or  an 
heirloom?" 

"  It  belonged  to  my  late  friend,  Count  Fabio,"  he  answered, 
puffing  a  light  cloud  of  smoke  in  the  air  as  he  drew  his  cigar 
from  his  lips  to  speak.  "  It  was  found  in  his  pocket  by  the 
priest  who  saw  him  die.  That  and  other  trifles  which  he 
wore  on  his  person  were  delivered  to  his  wife,  and — " 

"  She  naturally  gave  you  the  cigar-case  as  a  memento  of 
your  friend,"  I  said,  interrupting  him. 

"  Just  so.  You  have  guessed  it  exactly.  Thanks,"  and 
he  took  the  case  from  me  as  I  returned  it  to  him  with  a  frank 
smile. 

"  Is  the  Countess  Romani  young  ? "  I  forced  myself  to  in- 
quire. 

"  Young  and  beautiful  as  a  midsummer  morning !  "  replied 
Ferrari,  with  enthusiasm.  "  I  doubt  if  sunlight  ever  fell  on 
a  more  enchanting  woman  !  If  you  were  a  young  man,  conte, 
I  should  be  silent  regarding  her  charms — but  your  white  hairs 
inspire  one  with  confidence.  I  assure  you  solemnly,  though 
Fabio  was  my  friend,  and  an  excellent  fellow  in  his  ways,  he 
was  never  worthy  of  the  woman  he  married  !  " 

"  Indeed ! "  I  said,  coldly,  as  this  dagger-thrust  struck  homo 
to  my  heart.  "  I  only  knew  him  when  he  was  quite  a  boy. 


96  VEND  ETTA  I 

He  seemed  to  me  then  of  a  warm  and  loving  temperament, 
generous  to  a  fault,  perhaps  over-credulous  ;  yet  he  promised 
well.  His  father  thought  so ;  I  confess  I  thought  so  too. 
Reports  have  reached  me  from  time  to  time  of  the  care  with 
which  he  managed  the  immense  fortune  left  to  him.  He 
gave  large  sums  away  in  charity,  did  he  not  ?  and  was  he  not 
a  lover  of  books  and  simple  pleasures  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  grant  you  all  that !  "  returned  Ferrari,  with  some 
impatience.  "  He  was  the  most  moral  man  in  immoral 
Naples,  if  you  care  for  that  sort  of  thing.  Studious — phil- 
osophic—parfait  gentilhomme — proud  as  the  devil,  virtuous, 
unsuspecting,  and — withal — a  fool !  " 

My  temper  rose  dangerously — but  I  controlled  it,  and  re- 
membering my  part  in  the  drama  I  had  constructed,  I  broke 
into  violent,  harsh  laughter. 

"  Bravo  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  One  can  easily  see  what  a  first- 
rate  young  f ellow  you  are  !  You  have  no  liking  for  moral 
xnen — ha,  ha  !  excellent !  I  agree  with  you.  A  virtuous 
man  and  a  fool  are  synonyms  nowadays.  Yes — I  have  lived 
long  enough  to  know  that !  And  here  is  our  coffee — behold 
also  the  glorias  !  I  drink  your  health  with  pleasure,  Signor 
Ferrari — you  and  I  must  be  friends  !  " 

For  one  moment  he  seemed  startled  by  my  sudden  outburst 
of  mirth — the  next,  he  laughed  heartily  himself,  and  as  the 
waiter  appeared  with  the  coffee  and  cognac,  inspired  by  the 
occasion,  he  made  an  equivocal,  slightly  indelicate  joke  con- 
cerning the  personal  charms  of  a  certain  Antoinetta  whom 
ihe  garfon  was  supposed  to  favor  with  an  eye  to  matrimony. 
The  fellow  grinned,  in  nowise  offended — and  pocketing  fresh 
gratuities  from  both  Ferrari  and  myself,  departed  on  new 
errands  for  other  customers,  apparently  in  high  good  humor 
with  himself,  Antoinetta,  and  the  world  in  general.  Resum- 
ing the  interrupted  conversation  I  said  : 

"  And  this  poor  weak-minded  Romani — was  his  death 
sudden  ? " 

"  Remarkably  so,"  answered  Ferrari,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  and  turning  his  handsome  flushed  face  up  to  the  sky 
where  the  stars  were  beginning  to  twinkle  out  one  by  one, 
"  it  appears  from  all  accounts  that  he  rose  early  and  went  out 
for  a  walkton  one  of  those  insufferably  hot  August  mornings, 
and  at  the  furthest  limit  of  the  villa  grounds  he  came  upon  a 
fruit-seller  dying  of  cholera.  Of  course,  with  his  quixotic 
ideas,  he  must  needs  stay  and  talk  to  the  boy,  and  then  run 
like  a  madman  through  the  heat  into  Naples,  to  find  a  doctor 


VENDETTA!  97 

for  him.  Instead  of  a  physician  he  met  a  priest,  and  he  was 
taking  this  priest  to  the  assistance  of  the  fruit-seller  (who  by 
the  bye  died  in  the  meantime  and  was  past  all  caring  for)  when 
he  himself  was  struck  down  by  the  plague.  He  was  carried 
then  and  there  to  a  common  inn,  where  in  about  five  hours 
he  died — all  the  time  shrieking  curses  on  anyone  who  should 
dare  to  take  him  ali/e  or  dead  inside  his  own  house.  He 
showed  good  sense  in  that  at  least — naturally  he  was  anx- 
ious not  to  bring  the  contagion  to  his  wife  and  child." 

"  Is  the  child  a  boy  or  a  girl  ?  "     I  asked,  carelessly. 

"  A  girl.  A  mere  baby — an  uninteresting  old-fashioned 
little  thing,  very  like  her  father." 

My  poor  little   Stella. 

Every  pulse  of  my  being  thrilled  with  indignation  at  the 
indifferently  chill  way  in  which  he,  the  man  who  had  fondled 
her  and  pretended  to  love  her,  now  spoke  of  the  child.  She 
was,  as  far  as  he  knew,  fatherless ;  he,  no  doubt,  had  good 
reason  to  suspect  that  her  mother  cared  little  for  her,  and,  I 
saw  plainly  that  she  was,  or  soon  would  be,  a  slighted  and 
friendless  thing  in  the  household.  But  I  made  no  remark — 
I  sipped  my  cognac  with  an  abstracted  air  for  a  few  seconds 
— then  I  asked  : 

"  How  was  the  count  buried  ?  Your  narrative  interests  me 
greatly." 

"  Oh,  the  priest  who  was  with  him  saw  to  his  burial,  and  I 
believe,  was  able  to  administer  the  last  sacraments.  At  any 
rate,  he  had  him  laid  with  all  proper  respect  in  his  family 
vault — I  myself  was  present  at  the  funeral." 

I  started  involuntarily,  but  quickly  repressed  myself. 

"  You  were  present — you — you — "  and  my  voice  almost 
failed  me. 

Ferrari  raised  his  eyebrows  with  a  look  of  surprised  inquiry. 

"  Of  course  !  You  are  astonished  at  that?  But  perhaps 
you  do  not  understand.  I  was  the  count's  very  closest  friend, 
closer  than  a  brother,  I  may  say.  It  was  natural,  even 
necessary,  that  I  should  attend  his  body  to  its  last  resting- 
place." 

By  this  time  I  had  recovered  myself. 

"I  see — I  see  !  "  I  muttered,  hastily.  "Pray  excuse  me — 
my  age  renders  me  nervous  of  disease  in  any  form,  and  I 
should  have  thought  the  fear  of  contagion  might  have  weighed 
with  you." 

"  With  me  /"  and  he  laughed  lightly.  "  I  was  never  ill  in 
my  life,  and  I  have  no  dread  whatever  of  cholera.  I  vSuppose 

7 


9$  VENDETTA! 

I  ran  some  risk,  though  I  never  thought  about  it  at  the  time 
— but  the  priest — one  of  the  Benedictine  order — died  the  very 
next  day." 

"  Shocking !  "  I  murmured  over  my  coffee-cup.  "  Very 
shocking.  And  you  actually  entertained  no  alarm  for  your- 
self?" 

"  None  in  the  least.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  armed 
against  contagious  illnesses,  by  a  conviction  I  have  that  I  am 
not  doomed  to  die  of  any  disease.  A  prophecy  " — and  here 
a  cloud  crossed  his  features — "  an  odd  prophecy  was  made 
about  me  when  I  was  born,  which,  whether  it  comes  true  or 
not,  prevents  me  from  panic  in  days  of  plague." 

"  Indeed !  "  I  said,  with  interest,  for  this  was  news  to  me. 
"  And  may  one  ask  what  this  prophecy  is  ?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly.  It  is  to  the  effect  that  I  shall  die  a  violent 
.death  by  the  hand  of  a  once  familiar  friend.  It  was  always 
an  absurd  statement — an  old  nurse's  tale — but  it  is  now  more 
absurd  than  ever,  considering  that  the  only  friend  of  the  kind 
I  ever  had  or  am  likely  to  have  is  dead  and  buried — namely, 
Fabio  Romani." 

And  he  sighed  slightly.  I  raised  my  head  and  looked  at 
him  steadily. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  sheltering  darkness  of  the  spectacles  I  wore  prevented 
him  from  noticing  the  searching  scrutiny  of  my  fixed  gaze. 
His  face  was  shadowed  by  a  faint  tinge  of  melancholy ;  his 
eyes  were  thoughtful  and  almost  sad. 

"  You  loved  him  well  then  in  spite  of  his  foolishness  ?  "  I 
said. 

He  roused  himself  from  the  pensive  mood  into  which  he 
had  fallen,  and  smiled. 

"  Loved  him  ?  No  !  Certainly  not — nothing  so  strong  as 
that !  I  liked  him  fairly — he  bought  several  pictures  of  me 
— a  poor  artist  has  always  some  sort  of  regard  for  the  man 
who  buys  his  work.  Yes,  I  liked  him  well  enough — till  he 
married." 

"  Ha !  I  suppose  his  wife  came  between  you  ?  He  flushed 
slightly,  and  drank  off  the  remainder  of  his  cognac  in  haste. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  briefly,  "  she  came  between  us.  A  man 
is  never  quite  the  same  after  marriage.  But  we  have  been 
sitting  a  long  time  here — shall  we  walk  ?  " 


VEND  ETTA  I  gg 

He  was  evidently  anxious  to  change  the  subject.  I  rose 
slowly  as  though  my  joints  were  stiff  with  age,  and  drew  out 
my  watch,  a  finely  jeweled  one,  to  see  the  time.  It  was  past 
nine  o'clock. 

"  Perhaps,"  I  said,  addressing  him,  "  you  will  accompany 
me  as  far  as  my  hotel.  I  am  compelled  to  retire  early  as  a 
rule — I  suffer  much  from  a  chronic  complaint  of  the  eyes  as 
you  perceive,"  here  touching  my  spectacles,  "  and  I  cannot 
endure  much  artificial  light.  We  can  talk  further  on  our  way. 
Will  you  give  me  a  chance  of  seeing  your  pictures  ?  I  shall 
esteem  myself  happy  to  be  one  of  your  patrons." 

"  A  thousand  thanks  !  "  he  answered,  gayly.  "  I  will  show 
you  my  poor  attempts  with  pleasure.  Should  you  find  any- 
thing among  them  to  gratify  your  taste,  I  shall  of  course  be 
honored.  But,  thank  Heaven  !  I  am  not  as  greedy  of  pat- 
ronage as  I  used  to  be — in  fact  I  intended  resigning  the  pro- 
fession altogether  in  about  six  months  or  so." 

"  Indeed  !  Are  you  coming  into  a  fortune  ?  "  I  asked,  care- 
lessly. 

"  Well — not  exactly,"  he  answered,  lightly.  "  I  am  going 
to  marry  one — that  is  almost  the  same  thing,  is  it  not  ? " 

"  Precisely  !  I  congratulate  you  !  "  I  said,  in  a  studiously 
indifferent  and  slightly  bored  tone,  though  my  heart  pulsed 
fiercely  with  the  torrent  of  wrath  pent  up  within  it.  I  under- 
stood his  meaning  well.  In  six  months  he  proposed  marry- 
ing my  wife.  Six  months  was  the  shortest  possible  interval 
that  could  be  observed,  according  to  social  etiquette,  between 
the  death  of  one  husband  and  the  wedding  of  another,  and 
even  that  was  so  short  as  to  be  barely  decent.  Six  months 
— yet  in  that  space  of  time  much  might  happen — things 
undreamed  of  and  undesired — slow  tortures  carefully  meas- 
ured out,  punishment  sudden  and  heavy !  Wrapped  in 
these  sombre  musings  I  walked  beside  him  in  profound 
silence.  The  moon  shone  brilliantly;  groups  of  girls  danced 
on  the  shore  with  their  lovers,  to  the  sound  of  a  flute  and 
mandoline — far  off  across  the  bay  the  sound  of  sweet  and 
plaintive  singing  floated  from  some  boat  in  the  distance,  to 
our  ears — the  evening  breathed  of  beauty,  peace  and  love. 
But  I — my  fingers  quivered  with  restrained  longing  to  be  at 
the  throat  of  the  graceful  liar  who  sauntered  so  easily  and  con- 
fidently beside  me.  Ah  !  Heaven,  if  he  only  knew  !  If  he 
could  have  realized  the  truth,  would  his  face  have  worn  quite 
so  careless  a  smile — would  his  manner  have  been  quite  so 
free  and  dauntless  ?  Stealthily  I  glanced  at  him ;  he  was 


100  VENDETTA  I 

humming  attune  softly  under  his  breath,  but  feeling  instinfr 
tively,  I  suppose,  that  my  eyes  were  upon  him,  he  inter- 
rupted the  melody  and  turned  to  me  with  the  question : 

"  You  have  traveled  far  and  seen  much,  conte ! " 

"  I  have." 

"  And  in  what  country  have  you  found  the  most  beautiful 
women !  " 

"  Pardon  me,  young  sir,"  I  answered,  coldly,  "  the  business 
of  life  has  separated  me  almost  entirely  from  feminine  society. 
I  have  devoted  myself  exclusively  to  the  amassing  of  wealth, 
understanding  thoroughly  that  gold  is  the  key  to  all  things, 
even  to  woman's  love ;  if  I  desired  that  latter  commodity, 
which  I  do  not.  1  fear  that  I  scarcely  know  a  fair  face  from 
a  plain  one — I  never  was  attracted  by  women,  and  now  at  my 
age,  with  my  settled  habits,  I  am  not  likely  to  alter  my  opin- 
ion concerning  them — and  I  frankly  confess  those  opinions 
are  the  reverse  of  favorable. 

Ferrari  laughed.  "You  remind  me  of  Fabio  !  "  he  said. 
"  He  used  to  talk  in  that  strain  before  he  was  married — though 
he  was  young  and  had  none  of  the  experiences  which  may 
have  made  you  cynical,  conte  !  But  he  altered  his  ideas  very 
rapidly — and  no  wonder  !  " 

"  Is  his  wife  so  very  lovely  then  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Very  !  Delicately,  daintily  beautiful.  But  no  doubt  you 
will  see  her  for  yourself — as  a  friend  of  her  late  husband's 
father,  you  will  call  upon  her,  will  you  not  ?" 

"  Why  should  I  ?  "  I  said,  gruffly — "  I  have  no  wish  to 
meet  her  !  Besides,  an  inconsolable  widow  seldom  cares  to 
receive  visitors — I  shall  not  intrude  upon  her  sorrows  !  " 

Never  was  there  a  better  move  than  this  show  of  utter  in- 
difference I  affected.  The  less  I  appeared  to  care  about 
seeing  the  Countess  Romani,  the  more  anxious  Ferrari  was 
to  introduce  me — (introduce  me  ! — to  my  wife  !) — and  he 
set  to  work  preparing  his  own  doom  with  assiduous  ardor. 

"  Oh,  but  you  must  see  her  !  "  he  exclaimed,  eagerly.  "  She 
will  receive  you,  I  am  sure,  as  a  special  guest.  Your  age  and 
your  former  acquaintance  with  her  late  husband's  family  will 
win  from  her  the  utmost  courtesy,  believe  me  !  Besides,  she 

is  not  really  inconsolable "  He  paused  suddenly.  We 

had  arrived  at  the  entrance  of  my  hotel.  I  looked  at  him 
steadily. 

"  Not  really  inconsolable  ? "  I  repeated,  in  a  tone  of  inquiry. 
Ferrari  broke  into  a  forced  laugh. 

"  Why  no  1 "  he  said.     "  What  would  you  ?     She  is  young 


VENDETTA!  Iox 

and  light-hearted  —  perfectly  lovely  and  in  the  fullness  of  youth 
and  health.  One  cannot  expect  her  to  weep  long,  especially 
for  a  man  she  did  not  care  for." 

I  ascended  the  hotel  steps.  "  Pray  come  in  !  "  I  said,  with 
an  inviting  movement  of  my  hand.  "  You  must  take  a 
glass  of  wine  before  you  leave.  And  so  —  she  did  not  care  for 
him,  you  say  ?  " 

Encouraged  by  my  friendly  invitation  and  manner,  Ferrari 
became  more  at  >his  ease  than  ever,  and  hooking  his  arm 
through  nine  as  we  crossed  the  broad  passage  of  the  hotel 
together,  he  replied  in  a  confidential  tone  : 

"  My  dear  conte,  how  can  a  woman  love  a  man  who  is  forced 
upon  her  by  her  father  for  the  sake  of  the  money  he  gives 
her  ?  As  I  told  you  before,  my  late  friend  was  utterly  in- 
sensible to  the  beauty  of  his  wife  —  he  was  cold  as  a  stone, 


preferred  his  books.  Then  naturally  she  had  no  love 
for  him  !  " 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  my  apartments,  and  as  I  threw 
^>pen  the  door,  I  saw  that  Ferrari  was  taking  in  with  a  critical 
<?ye  the  costly  fittings  and  luxurious  furniture.  In  answer  to 
this  last  remark,  I  said  with  a  chilly  smile  : 

"  And  as  /told  you  before,  my  dear  Signor  Ferarri,  I  know 
nothing  whatever  about  women,  and  care  less  than  nothing  for 
their  loves  or  hatreds  !  I  have  always  thought  of  them  more 
or  less  as  playful  kittens,  who  purr  when  they  are  stroked 
the  right  way,  and  scream  and  scratch  when  their  tails  are 
trodden  on.  Try  this  Montepulciano  !  " 

He  accepted  the  glass  I  proffered  him,  and  tasted  the 
wine  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur. 

"  Exquisite  !  "  he  murmured,  sipping  it  lazily.  "  You  are 
lodged  en  prince  here,  contc  !  I  envy  you  !  " 

"  You  need  not,"  I  answered.  "  You  have  -youth  and 
health,  and  —  as  you  have  hinted  tome  —  love  ;  all  these  things 
are  better  than  wealth,  so  people  say.  At  any  rate,  youth 
and  health  are  good  things  —  love  I  have  no  belief  in.  As 
for  me,  I  am  a  mere  luxurious  animal,  loving  comfort  and 
ease  beyond  anything.  I  have  had  many  trials  —  I  now  take 
my  rest  in  my  own  fashion." 

:'  A  very  excellent  and  sensible  fashion  !  "  smiled  Ferrari, 
leaning  his  head  easily  back  on  the  satin  cushions  of  the, 
easy-chair  into  which  he  had  thrown  himself. 

"  Do  you  know,  conte,  now  I  look  at  you  well,  I  think  you 
must  have  been  very  handsome  when  you  were  young  1  Yoij 
superb  figure  I  " 


102  VENDEfVAt 

I  bowed  stiffly.  "  You  flatter  me,  sign  ;>r  !  I  believe  1 
never  was  specially  hideous — but  looks  in  a  man  always  rank 
second  to  strength,  and  of  strength  I  have  plenty  yet  re- 
maining." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,"  he  returned,  still  regarding  me  at- 
tentively with  an  expression  in  which  there  was  the  faintest 
shadow  of  uneasiness. 

"  It  is  an  odd  coincidence,  you  will  say,  but  I  find  a  most 
extraordinary  resemblance  in  the  height  and  carriage  of  your 
figure  to  that  of  my  late  friend  Romani." 

I  poured  some  wine  out  for  myself  with  a  steady  hand, 
and  drank  it. 

"  Really  ?  "  I  answered.  "  I  am  glad  that  I  remind  you  of 
him — if  the  reminder  is  agreeable  !  But  all  tall  men  are  much 
alike  so  far  as  figure  goes,  providing  they  are  well  made." 

Ferrari's  brow  was  contracted  in  a  musing  frown  and  he 
answered  not.  He  still  looked  at  me,  and  I  returned  his 
look  without  embarrassment.  Finally  he  roused  himself, 
smiled,  and  finished  drinking  his  glass  of  Montepulciano. 
Then  he  rose  to  go. 

"  You  will  permit  me  to  mention  your  name  to  the  Countess 
Romani,  I  hope  ?  "  he  said,  cordially.  "  I  am  certain  she 
will  receive  you,  should  you  desire  it." 

I  feigned  a  sort  of  vexation,  and  made  an  abrupt  move- 
ment of  impatience. 

"  The  fact  is,"  I  said,  at  last,  "  I  very  much  dislike  talking 
to  women.  They  are  always  illogical,  and  their  frivolity 
wearies  me.  But  you  have  been  so  friendly  that  I  will  give 
you  a  message  for  the  countess — if  you  have  no  objection  to 
deliver  it.  I  should  be  sorry  to  trouble  you  unnecessarily — 
and  you  perhaps  will  not  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  her 
for  some  days  ?  " 

He  colored  slightly  and  moved  uneasily.  Then  with  a 
kind  of  effort,  he  replied  : 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  am  going  to  see  her  this  very  evening. 
I  assure  you  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  convey  to  her  any 
greeting  you  may  desire  to  send." 

"  Oh,  it  is  no  greeting,"  I  continued,  calmly,  noting  the 
various  signs  of  embarrassment  in  his  manner  with  a  careful 
eye.  "  It  is  a  mere  message,  which,  however,  may  enable  you 
to  understand  why  I  was  anxious  to  see  the  young  man  who 
is  dead.  In  my  very  early  manhood  the  elder  Count  Romani 
did  me  an  inestimable  servica.  I  never  forgot  his  kindness 
—my  memory  is  extraordinarily  tenacious  of  both  benefits  an*i 


VENDETTA  f  103 

injuries — and  I  have  always  desired  to  repay  it  in  some  suit- 
able manner.  I  have  with  me  a  few  jewels  of  almost  price- 
less value — I  have  myself  collected  them,  and  I  reserved 
them  as  a  present  to  the  son  of  my  old  friend,  simply  as  a 
trifling  souvenir  or  expression  of  gratitude  for  past  favors 
received  from  his  family.  His  sudden  death  has  deprived 
me  of  the  pleasure  of  fulfilling  this  intention — but  as  the 
jewels  are  quite  useless  to  me,  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  hand 
them  over  to  the  Countess  Romani,  should  she  care  to  have 
them.  They  would  have  been  hers  had  her  husband  lived — 
they  should  be  hers  now.  If  you,  signor,  will  report  these 
facts  to  her  and  learn  her  wishes  with  respect  to  the  matter, 
I  shall  be  much  indebted  to  you." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  obey  you,"  replied  Ferrari,  court- 
eously, rising  at  the  same  time  to  take  his  leave.  "  I  am 
proud  to  be  the  bearer  of  so  pleasing  an  errand.  Beautiful 
women  love  jewels,  and  who  shall  blame  them?  Bright  eyes 
and  diamonds  go  well  together  !  A  rivederci,  Signor  Conte ! 
I  trust  we  shall  meet  often." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  we  shall,"  I  answered,  quietly. 

He  shook  hands  cordially — I  responded  to  his  farewell  salu- 
tations with  the  brief  coldness  which  was  now  my  habitual  man- 
ner, and  we  parted.  From  the  window  of  my  saloon  I  could  see 
him  sauntering  easily  down  the  hotel  steps  and  from  thence 
along  the  street.  How  I  cursed  him  as  he  stepped  jauntily 
on — how  I  hated  his  debonair  grace  and  easy  manner !  I 
watched  the  even  poise  of  his  handsome  head  and  -shoulders, 
I  noted  the  assured  tread,  the  air  of  conscious  vanity — the 
whole  demeanor  of  the  man  bespoke  his  perfect  self-satisfac- 
tion and  his  absolute  confidence  in  the  brightness  of  the 
future  that  awaited  him  when  that  stipulated  six  months  of 
pretended  mourning  for  my  untimely  death  should  have  ex- 
pired. Once,  as  he  walked  on  his  way,  he  turned  and 
paused — looking  back — he  raised  his  hat  to  enjoy  the  cool- 
ness of  the  breeze  on  his  forehead  and  hair.  The  light  of 
the  moon  fell  full  on  his  features  and  showed  them  in  pro- 
file, like  a  finely-cut  cameo  against  the  dense  dark-blue  back- 
ground of  the  evening  sky.  I  gazed  at  him  with  a  sort  of 
grim  fascination — the  fascination  of  a  hunter  for  the  stag 
when  it  stands  at  bay,  just  before  he  draws  his  knife  across 
its  throat.  He  was  in  my  power — he  had  deliberately  thrown 
himself  in  the  trap  I  had  set  for  him.  He  lay  at  the  mercy 
of  orte  in  whom  there  was  no  mercy.  He  had  said  and  done 
nothing  to  deter  me  from  my  settled  plans.  Had  he  shown 


104  VENDETTA  I 

the  least  tenderness  of  recollection  for  me  as  Fabio  Romani, 
his  friend  and  benefactor — had  he  hallowed  my  memory  by 
one  generous  word — had  he  expressed  one  regret  for  my  loss 
— I  might  have  hesitated,  I  might  have  somewhat  changed 
my  course  of  action  so  that  punishment  should  have  fallen 
more  lightly  on  him  than  on  her.  For  I  knew  well  enough 
that  she,  my  wife,  was  the  worst  sinner  of  the  two.  Had  she 
chosen  to  respect  herself,  not  all  the  forbidden  love  in  the 
world  could  have  touched  her  honor.  Therefore,  the  least 
sign  of  compunction  or  affection  from  Ferrari  for  me,  his 
supposed  dead  friend,  would  have  turned  the  scale  in  his 
favor,  and  in  spite  of  his  treachery,  remembering  how  she 
must  have  encouraged  him,  I  would  at  least  have  spared  him 
torture.  But  no  sign  had  been  given,  no  word  had  been 
spoken,  there  was  no  need  for  hesitation  or  pity,  and  I  was 
glad  of  it !  All  this  I  thought  as  I  watched  him  standing 
bareheaded  in  the  moonlight,  on  his  way  to — whom  ?  To 
my  wife,  of  course.  I  knew  that  well  enough.  He  was  go- 
ing to  console  her  widow's  tears — to  soothe  her  aching  heart 
— a  good  Samaritan  in  very  earnest !  He  moved,  he  passed 
slowly  out  of  my  sight.  I  waited  till  I  had  seen  the  last 
glimpse  of  his  retreating  figure,  and  then  I  left  the  window 
satisfied  with  my  day's  work.  Vengeance  had  begun. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

QUITE  early  in  the  next  day  Ferrari  called  to  see  me.  I 
was  at  breakfast — he  apologized  for  disturbing  me  at  the 
meal. 

"  But,"  he  explained,  frankly,  "  the  Countess  Romani  laid 
such  urgent  commands  upon  me  that  I  was  compelled  to 
obey.  We  men  are  the  slaves  of  women  !  " 

"  Not  always,"  I  said,  dryly,  as  I  motioned  him  to  take  a 
seat — "  there  are  exceptions — myself  for  instance.  Will  you 
have  some  coffee  ?  " 

"  Thanks,  I  have  already  breakfasted.  Pray  do  not  let 
me  be  in  your  way,  my  errand  is  soon  done.  The  countess 
wishes  me  to  say  •  .  .." 

"  You,  saw  her  last  night  ?"  I  interrupted  him. 

He  flushed  slightly.  "  Yes— that  is— for  a  few  minutes 
only.  I  gave  her  your  message.  She  thanks  you,  and  de- 
sires me  to  tell  you  that;  she  cannot  think  of  receiving  tht 


VENDETTA!  105 

jewels  unless  you  will  first  honor  her  by  a  visit.  She  is  not 
at  home  to  ordinary  callers  in  consequence  of  her  recent  be- 
reavement— but  to  you,  so  old  a  friend  of  her  husband's 
family,  a  hearty  welcome  will  be  accorded." 

I  bowed  stiffly.  "  I  am  extremely  flattered  !  "  I  said,  in  a 
somewhat  sarcastical  tone,  "  it  is  seldom  I  receive  so  tempt- 
ing an  invitation  !  1  regret  that  I  cannot  accept  it — at  least, 
not  at  present.  Make  my  compliments  to  the  lady,  and  tell 
her  so  in  whatever  sugared  form  of  words  you  may  think  best 
fitted  to  please  her  ears." 

He  looked  surprised  and  puzzled. 

"  Do  you  really  mean,"  he  said,  with  a  tinge  of  hauteur  in 
his  accents,  "  that  you  will  not  visit  her — that  you  refuse  her 
request  ?  " 

I  smiled.  "  I  really  mean,  my  dear  Signer  Ferrari,  that, 
being  always  accustomed  to  have  my  own  way,  I  can  make 
no  exception  in  favor  of  ladies,  however  fascinating  they  may 
be.  I  have  business  in  Naples — it  claims  my  first  and  best 
attention.  When  it  is  transacted  I  may  possibly  try  a  few 
frivolities  for  a  change — at  present  I  am  unfit  for  the  society 
of  the  fair  sex — an  old  battered  traveler  as  you  see,  brusque, 
and  unaccustomed  to  polite  lying.  But  I  promise  you  I  will 
practice  suave  manners  and  a  court  bow  for  the  countess 
when  I  can  spare  time  to  call  upon  her.  In  the  meanwhile  I 
trust  to  you  to  make  her  a  suitable  and  graceful  apology  for 
my  non-appearance." 

Ferrari's  puzzled  and  vexed  expression  gave  way  to  a  smile 
— finally  he  laughed  aloud.  "Upon  my  word!"  he  ex- 
claimed, gayly,  "you  are  really  a  remarkable  man,  conte  ! 
You  are  extremely  cynical !  I  am  almost  inclined  to  believe 
that  you  positively  hate  women." 

"Oh,  by  no  means  !  Nothing  so  strong  as  hatred,"  I  said, 
coolly,  as  I  peeled  and  divided  a  fine  peach  as  a  finish  to  my 
morning's  meal.  "  Hatred  is  a  strong  passion — to  hate  well 
one  must  first  have  loved.  No,  no — I  do  not  find  women 
worth  hating — I  am  simply  indifferent  to  them.  They  seem 
to  me  merely  one  of  the  burdens  imposed  on  man's  existence 
— graceful,  neatly  packed,  light  burdens  in  appearance,  but 
in  truth,  terribly  heavy  and  soul-crushing." 

"  Yet  many  accept  such  burdens  gayly  !  "  interrupted  Fer- 
rari, with  a  smile.  I  glanced  at  him  keenly. 

"  Men  seldom  attain  the  mastery  over  their  own  passions,'* 
I  replied  ;  "  they  are  in  haste  to  seize  every  apparent  pleasure, 
that  comes  in  their  way,  keel  by  a  hot  animal  impulse  whi 


Io6  VENDETTA! 

they  call  love,  they  snatch  at  a  woman's  beauty  as  a  greedy 
school-boy  snatches  ripe  fruit — and  when  possessed,  what  is 
it  worth  ?  Here  is  its  emblem  " — and  I  held  up  the  stone  of 
the  peach  I  had  just  eaten — "  the  fruit  is  devoured — what 
remains  ?  A  stone  with  a  bitter  kernel." 

Ferrari  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  cannot  agree  with  you,  count,"  he  said  ;  "  but  I  will 
not  argue  with  you.  From  your  point  of  view  you  may  be 
right — but  when  one  is  young,  and  life  stretches  before  you 
like  a  fair  pleasure-ground,  love  and  the  smile  of  woman  are 
like  sunlight  falling  on  flowers  !  You  too  must  have  felt  this 
— in  spite  of  what  you  say,  there  must  have  been  a  time  in 
your  life  when  you  also  loved  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  had  my  fancies,  of  course  !  "  I  answered,  with 
an  indifferent  laugh.  "  The  woman  I  fancied  turned  out  to 
be  a  saint — I  was  not  worthy  of  her — at  least,  so  I  was  told. 
At  any  rate,  I  was  so  convinced  of  her  virtue  and  my  own 
unworthiness — that — I  left  her." 

He  looked  surprised.  "  An  odd  reason,  surely,  for  resign- 
ing her,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  Very  odd — very  unusual — but  a  sufficient  one  for  me. 
Pray  let  us  talk  of  something  more  interesting — your  pictures, 
for  instance.  When  may  I  see  them  ?  " 

"  When  you  please,"  he  answered,  readily — "  though  I  fear 
they  are  scarcely  worth  a  visit.  I  have  not  worked  much 
lately.  I  really  doubt  whether  I  have  any  that  will  merit 
your  notice." 

"  You  underrate  your  powers,  signor,"  I  said  with  formal 
politeness.  "  Allow  me  to  call  at  your  studio  this  afternoon. 
I  have  a  few  minutes  to  spare  between  three  and  four  o'clock 
if  that  time  will  suit  you." 

"  It  will  suit  me  admirably,"  he  said,  with  a  look  of  grati- 
fication ;  "  but  I  fear  you  will  be  disappointed.  I  assure  you 
I  am  no  artist." 

I  smiled.  I  knew  that  well  enough.  But  I  made  no 
reply  to  his  remark — I  said,  "  Regarding  the  matter  of  the 
jewels  for  the  Countess  Romani — would  you  care  to  see 
them  ? " 

"  I  should  indeed,"  he  answered  ;  "  they  are  unique  speci- 
mens, I  think?" 

"  I  believe  so,"  I  answered,  and  going  to  an  escritoire  in 
the  corner  of  the  room,  I  unlocked  it  and  took  out  a  massive 
carved  oaken  jewel-chest  of  square  shape,  which  I  had  had 
made  in  Palermo.  It  contained  a  necklace  of  large  rubies 


VENDETTA!  107 

and  diamonds,  with  bracelets  to  match,  and  pins  for  the  hair 
— also  a  sapphire  ring — a  cross  of  fine  rose-brilliants,  and  the 
pearl  pendant  I  had  first  found  in  the  vault.  All  the  gems, 
with  the  exception  of  this  pendant,  had  been  reset  by  a  skill- 
ful jeweler  in  Palermo,  who  had  acted  under  my  superintend- 
ence— and  Ferrari  uttered  an  exclamation  of  astonishment 
and  admiration  as  he  lifted  the  glittering  toys  out  one  by  one 
and  noted  the  size  and  brilliancy  of  the  precious  stones. 

"  They  are  trifles,"  I  said,  carelessly — "  but  they  may  please 
a  woman's  taste — and  they  amount  to  a  certain  fixed  value. 
You  would  do  me  a  great  service  if  you  consented  to  take 
them  to  the  Contessa  Romani  for  me — tell  her  to  accept  them 
as  heralds  of  my  forthcoming  visit.  1  am  sure  you  will  know 
how  to  persuade  her  to  take  what  would  unquestionably 
have  been  hers  had  her  husband  lived.  They  are  really  her 
property — she  must  not  refuse  to  receive  what  is  her  own." 

Ferrari  hesitated  and  looked  at  me  earnestly. 

"  You  will  visit  her — she  may  rely  on  your  coming  for  a 
certainty,  I  hope  ?  " 

I  smiled.  "  You  seem  very  anxious  about  it.  May  I  ask 
why  ? " 

"  1  think,"  he  replied  at  once,  "  that  it  would  embarrass 
the  countess  very  much  if  you  gave  her  no  opportunity  to 
thank  you  for  so  munificent  and  splendid  a  gift — and  unless 
she  knew  she  could  do  so,  I  am  certain  she  would  not  accept 
it." 

"  Make  yourself  quite  easy,"  I  answered.  "  She  shall 
thank  me  to  her  heart's  content.  I  give  you  my  word  that 
within  a  few  days  I  will  call  upon  the  lady — in  fact  you  said 
you  would  introduce  me — I  accept  your  offer  !  " 

He  seemed  delighted,  and  seizing  my  hand,  shook  it  cor- 
dially. 

"  Then  in  that  case  I  will  gladly  take  the  jewels  to  her," 
he  exclaimed.  "  And  I  may  say,  count,  that  had  you 
searched  the  whole  world  over,  you  could  not  have  found 
one  whose  beauty  was  more  fitted  to  show  them  off  to  ad- 
vantage. I  assure  you  her  loveliness  is  of  a  most  exquisite 
character  ! " 

"  No  doubt !  "  I  said,  dryly.  "  I  take  your  word  for  it.  I 
am  no  judge  of  a  fair  face  or  form.  And  now,  my  good 
friend,  do  not  think  me  churlish  if  I  request  you  to  leave  me 
in  solitude  for  the  present.  Between  three  and  four  o'clock 
I  shall  be  at  your  studio." 

He  rose  at  once  to  take  his  leave,     I  placed  the  oaken  bo« 


Io8  VENDETTA! 

of  jewels  in  the  leathern  case  which  had  been  made  to  con- 
tain it,  strapped  and  locked  it,  and  handed  it  to  him  together 
with  its  key.  He  was  profuse  in  his  compliments  and 
thanks — almost  obsequious,  in  truth — and  I  discovered  an- 
other defect  in  his  character — a  defect  which,  as  his  friend 
in  former  days,  I  had  guessed  nothing  of.  I  saw  that  very 
little  encouragement  would  make  him  a  toady — a  fawning 
servitor  on  the  wealthy — and  in  our  old  time  of  friendship  I 
had  believed  him  to  be  far  above  all  such  meanness,  but 
rather  of  a  manly,  independent  nature  that  scorned  hypoc- 
risy. Thus  we  are  deluded  even  by  our  nearest  and  dear- 
est— and  is  it  well  or  ill  for  us,  I  wonder,  when  we  are  at 
last  undeceived  ?  Is  not  the  destruction  of  illusion  worse 
than  illusion  itself?  I  thought  so,  as  my  quondam  friend 
clasped  my  hand  in  farewell  that  morning.  What  would  I 
not  have  given  to  believe  in  him  as  I  once  did  !  I  held  open 
the  door  of  my  room  as  he  passed  out,  carrying  the  box  of 
jewels  for  my  wife,  and  as  I  bade  him  a  brief  adieu,  the  well- 
worn  story  of  Tristram  and  Kind  Mark  came  to  my  mind. 
He,  Guido,  like  Tristram,  would  in  a  short  space  clasp  the 
gemmed  necklace  round  the  throat  of  one  as  fair  and  false 
as  the  fabled  Iseulte,  and  I — should  I  figure  as  the  wronged 
king  ?  How  does  the  English  laureate  put  it  in  his  idyl  on 
the  subject  ? 

•' '  Mark 's  -way,"1  said  Mark,  and  clove  him  through  the  brain" 

Too  sudden  and  sweet  a  death  by  far  for  such  a  traitor  ! 
The  Cornish  king  should  have  known  how  to  torture  his  be- 
trayer, /knew — and  I  meditated  deeply  on  every  point  of  my 
design,  as  I  sat  alone  for  an  hour  after  Ferrari  had  left  me. 
I  had  many  things  to  do — I  had  resolved  on  making  myself 
a  personage  of  importance  in  Naples,  and  I  wrote  several 
letters  and  sent  out  visiting-cards  to  certain  well-established 
families  of  distinction  as  necessary  preliminaries  to  the  re* 
suit  I  had  in  view.  That  day,  too,  I  engaged  a  valet — a 
silent  and  discreet  Tuscan  named  Vincenzo  Flamma.  He 
was  an  admirably  trained  servant — he  never  asked  questions 
— was  too  dignified  to  gossip,  and  rendered  me  instant  and 
implicit  obedience — in  fact  he  was  a  gentleman  in  his  way, 
with  far  better  manners  than  many  who  lay  claim  to  that 
title.  He  entered  upon  his  duties  at  once,  and  never  did  I 
know  him  to  neglect  the  most  trifling  thing  that  could  add 
to  my  satisfaction  or  comfort.  In  making  arrangements 
fcw»f  «*4  in  attending  (0  various  liuK;  routers  of 


VENDETTA  t  109 

ftess,  the  hours  slipped  rapidly  away,  and  in  the  afternoon, 
at  the  time  appointed,  I  made  my  way  to  Ferrari's  studio. 
I  knew  it  of  old — I  had  no  need  to  consult  the  card  he  had 
left  with  me  on  which  the  address  was  written.  It  was  a 
queer,  quaintly  built  little  place,  situated  at  the  top  of  an 
ascending  road — its  windows  commanded  an  extensive  view 
of  the  bay  and  the  surrounding  scenery.  Many  and  many  a 
happy  hour  had  I  passed  there  before  my  marriage  reading 
some  favorite  book  or  watching  Ferrari  as  he  painted  his 
crude  landscapes  and  figures,  most  of  which  I  good-naturedly 
purchased  as  soon  as  completed.  The  little  porch  over-grown 
with  star  jasmine  looked  strangely  and  sorrowfully  familiar  to 
my  eyes,  and  my  heart  experienced  a  sickening  pang  of 
regret  for  the  past,  as  I  pulled  the  bell  and  heard  the  little 
tinkling  sound  to  which  I  was  so  well  accustomed.  Fer- 
rari himself  opened  the  door  to  me  with  eager  rapidity — he 
looked  excited  and  radiant. 

"  Come  in,  come  in  !  "  he  cried  with  effusive  cordiality. 
"  You  will  find  everything  in  confusion,  but  pray  excuse  it. 
It  is  some  time  since  I  had  any  visitors.  Mind  the  steps, 
conte ! — the  place  is  rather  dark  just  here — every  one 
stumbles  at  this  particular  corner." 

So  talking,  and  laughing  as  he  talked,  he  escorted  me  up 
the  short  narrow  flight  of  stairs  to  the  light  airy  room  where 
he  usually  worked.  Glancing  round  it,  I  saw  at  once  the  evi- 
dences of  neglect  and  disorder — he  had  certainly  not  been 
there  for  many  days,  though  he  had  made  an  attempt  to 
arrange  it  tastefully  for  my  reception.  On  the  table  stood  a 
large  vase  of  flowers  grouped  with  artistic  elegance — I  felt 
instinctively  that  my  wife  had  put  them  there.  I  noticed 
that  Ferrari  had  begun  nothing  new — all  the  finished  and  un- 
finished studies  I  saw  I  recognized  directly.  I  seated  my- 
self in  an  easy-chair  and  looked  at  my  betrayer  with  a 
calmly  critical  eye.  He  was  what  the  English  would  call 
"got  up  for  effect."  Though  in  black,  he  had  donned  a 
velvet  coat  instead  of  the  cloth  one  he  had  worn  in  the 
morning — he  had  a  single  white  japonica  in  his  buttonhole 
—his  face  was  pale  and  his  eyes  unusually  brilliant.  He 
looked  his  best — I  admitted  it,  and  could  readily  understand 
how  an  idle,  pleasure-seeking  feminine  animal  might  be 
easily  attracted  by  the  purely  physical  beauty  of  his  form  and 
features.  I  spoke  a  part  of  my  thoughts  aloud. 

"  You  are  not  only  an  artist  by  profession,  Signer  Ferrari 
—you  are  one  also  in  appearance." 


no  VENDETTA! 

He  flushed  slightly  and  smiled. 

"  You  are  very  amiable  to  say  so,"  he  replied,  his  pleased 
vanity  displaying  itself  at  once  in  the  expression  of  his  face. 
•'  But  I  am  well  aware  that  you  flatter  me.  By  the  way,  be- 
fore I  forget  it,  I  must  tell  you  that  I  fulfilled  your  commis- 
sion." 

44  To  the  Countess  Roman  i  ?  " 

44  Exactly.  I  cannot  describe  to  you  her  astonishment 
and  delight  at  the  splendor  and  brilliancy  of  those  jewels 
you  sent  her.  It  was  really  pretty  to  watch  her  innocent 
satisfaction." 

I  laughed. 

"  Marguerite  and  the  jewel  song  in  '  Faust,'  I  suppose, 
with  new  scenery  and  effects  ? "  I  asked,  with  a  slight  sneer. 
He  bit  his  lip  and  looked  annoyed.  But  he  answered, 
quietly : 

"  I  see  you  must  have  your  joke,  conte ;  but  remember 
that  if  you  place  the  countess  in  the  position  of  Marguerite, 
you,  as  the  giver  of  the  jewels,  naturally  play  the  part  of 
Mephistopheles." 

44  And  you  will  be  Faust,  of  course ! "  I  said,  gayly. 
44  Why,  we  might  mount  the  opera  with  a  few  supernumeraries 
and  astonish  Naples  by  our  performance  !  What  say  you  ? 
But  let  us  come  to  business.  I  like  the  picture  you  have  on 
the  easel  there — may  I  see  it  more  closely  ?  " 

He  drew  it  nearer ;  it  was  a  showy  landscape  with  the 
light  of  the  sunset  upon  it.  It  was  badly  done,  but  I  praised 
it  warmly,  and  purchased  it  for  five  hundred  francs.  Four 
other  sketches  of  a  similar  nature  were  then  produced.  I 
bought  these  also.  By  the  time  we  got  through  these 
matters,  Ferrari  was  in  the  best  of  humors.  He  offered  me 
some  excellent  wine  and  partook  of  it  himself ;  he  talked 
incessantly,  and  diverted  me  extremely,  though  my  inward 
amusement  was  not  caused  by  the  witty  brilliancy  of  his 
conversation.  No,  I  was  only  excited  to  a  sense  of  savage 
humor  by  the  novelty  of  the  position  in  which  we  two  men 
stood.  Therefore  I  listened  to  him  attentively,  applauded 
his  anecdotes — all  of  which  I  had  heard  before — admired 
his  jokes,  and  fooled  his  egotistical  soul  till  he  had  no  shred 
of  self-respect  remaining.  He  laid  his  nature  bare  before  me 
— and  I  knew  what  it  was  at  last — a  mixture  of  selfishness, 
avarice,  sensuality,  and  heartlessness,  tempered  now  and 
then  by  a  flash  of  good-nature  and  sympathetic  attraction 
which  were  the  mere  outcomes  of  youth  and  physical  health 


VENDETTA!  Ill 

— no  more.  This  was  the  man  I  had  loved — this  fellow  who 
told  coarse  stones  only  worthy  of  a  common  pot-house,  and 
who  reveled  in  a  wit  of  a  high  and  questionable  flavor ;  this 
conceited,  empty-headed,  muscular  piece  of  humanity  was  the 
same  being  for  whom  I  had  cherished  so  chivalrous  and 
loyal  a  tenderness  !  Our  conversation  was  broken  in  upon 
at  last  by  the  sound  of  approaching  wheels.  A  carriage  was 
heard  ascending  the  road — it  came  nearer — it  stopped  at  the 
door.  I  set  down  the  glass  of  wine  I  had  just  raised  to  my 
lips,  and  looked  at  Ferrari  steadily. 

"You  expect  other  visitors  ?  "  I  inquired. 

He  seemed  embarrassed,  smiled,  and  hesitated. 

«  Well — I  am  not  sure— but "  The  bell  rang.  With  a 

word  of  apology  Ferrari  hurried  away  to  answer  it.  I  sprung 
from  my  chair — I  knew — I  felt  who  w£s  coming.  I  steadied 
my  nerves  by  a  strong  effort.  I  controlled  the  rapid  beating 
of  my  heart ;  and  fixing  my  dark  glasses  more  closely  over 
my  eyes,  I  drew  myself  up  erect  and  waited  calmly.  I  heard 
Ferrari  ascending  the  stairs — a  light  step  accompanied  his 
heavier  footfall — he  spoke  to  his  companion  in  whispers. 
Another  instant — and  he  flung  the  door  of  the  studio  wide 
open  with  the  haste  and  reverence  due  for  the  entrance  of  a 
queen.  There  was  a  soft  rustle  of  silk — a  delicate  breath  of 
perfume  on  the  air — and  then — I  stood  face  to  face  with — 
my  wife  I 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

How  dazzlingly  lovely  she  was  !  I  gazed  at  her  with  the 
same  bewildered  fascination  that  had  stupefied  my  reason 
and  judgment  when  I  beheld  her  for  the  first  time.  The 
black  robes  she  wore,  the  long  crape  veil  thrown  back  from 
her  clustering  hair  and  mignonneiz.ee,  all  the  somber  shadows 
of  her  mourning  garb  only  served  to  heighten  and  display 
her  beauty  to  greater  advantage.  A  fair  widow  truly !  I, 
her  lately  deceased  husband,  freely  admitted  the  magnetic 
power  of  her  charms  !  She  paused  for  an  instant  on  the 
threshold,  a  winning  smile  on  her  lips  ;  she  looked  at  me, 
hesitated,  and  finally  spoke  in  courteous  accents  : 

"  I  think  I  cannot  be  mistaken  !  Do  I  address  the  noble 
Conte  Cesare  Oliva  ?  " 

I  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not.  My  mouth  was  dry  and 
parched  with  excitement,  my  throat  swelled  and  ached  with 


lit  VENDETTA  1 

the  pent-up  wrath  and  despair  of  my  emotions.  I  answered 
her  question  silently  by  a  formal  bow.  She  at  once  advanced, 
extending  both  her'  hands  with  the  coaxing  grace  of  manner 
I  had  so  often  admired. 

"  I  am  the  Counters  Romani,"  she  said,  still  smiling.  "  I 
heard  from  Signor  Ferrari  that  you  purposed  visiting  his 
studio  this  afternoon,  and  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
of  coming  to  express  my  personal  acknowledgments  for  the 
almost  regal  gift  you  sent  me.  The  jewels  are  really  mag- 
nificent. Permit  me  to  offer  you  my  sincere  thanks  !  " 

I  caught  her  outstretched  hands  and  wrung  them  hard — 
so  hard  that  the  rings  she  wore  must  have  dug  into  her  flesh 
and  hurt  her,  though  she  was  too  well-bred  to  utter  any  ex- 
clamation. I  had  fully  recovered  myself,  and  was  prepared 
to  act  out  my  part. 

"  On  the  contrary,  madame,"  I  said  in  a  strong  harsh 
voice,  "  the  thanks  must  come  entirely  from  me  for  the 
honor  you  have  conferred  upon  me  by  accepting  trifles  so 
insignificant — especially  at,  a  time  when  the  cold  brilliancy  of 
mere  diamonds  must  jar  upon  the  sensitive  feelings  of  your 
recent  widowhood.  Believe  me,  I  sympathize  deeply  with 
your  bereavement.  Had  your  husband  lived,  the  jewels  would 
have  been  his  gift  to  you,  and  how  much  more  acceptable 
they  would  then  have  appeared  in  your  eyes  1  I  am  proud 
to  think  you  have  condescended  so  far  as  to  receive  them 
from  so  unworthy  a  hand  as  mine." 

As  I  spoke  her  face  paled — she  seemed  startled,  and  re- 
garded me  earnestly.  Sheltered  behind  my  smoked  spec- 
tacles, I  met  the  gaze  of  her  large  dark  eyes  without  embar- 
rassment. Slowly  she  withdrew  her  slight  fingers  from  my 
clasp.  I  placed  an  easy-chair  for  her  ;  she  sunk  softly  into 
it  with  her  old  air  ol  indolent  ease,  the  ease  of  a  spoiled  em- 
press or  sultan's  favorite,  while  she  still  continued  to  look 
up  at  me  thoughtfully.  Ferrari,  meanwhile,  busied  himself 
in  bringing  out  more  wine ;  he  also  produced  a  dish  of  fruit 
and  some  sweet  cakes,  and  while  occupied  in  these  duties  as 
our  host  he  began  to  laugh. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  you  are  caught ! "  he  exclaimed  to  me  gayly. 
"  You  must  know  we  planned  this  together,  madame  and  I, 
just  to  take  you  by  surprise.  There  was  no  knowing  when 
you  would  be  persuaded  to  visit  the  contessa,  and  she  could 
not  rest  till  she  had  thanked  you,  so  we  arranged  this  meet- 
ing. Could  anything  be  better  ?  Come,  conte,  confess  that 
you  are  charmed  1 " 


VENDETTA!  XI£ 

"  Of  course  I  am  !  "  I  answered  with  a  slight  touch  of 
satire  in  my  tone.  "  Who  would  not  be  charmed  in  the  pres- 
ence of  such  youth  and  beauty !  And  I  am  also  flattered 
— for  I  know  what  exceptional  favor  the  Contessa  Romani 
extends  toward  me  in  allowing  me  to  make  her  acquaintance 
at  a  time  which  must  naturally  be  for  her  a  secluded  season 
of  sorrow." 

At  these  words  my  wife's  face  suddenly  assumed  an  ex- 
pression of  wistful  sadness  and  appealing  gentleness. 

"  Ah,  poor  unfortunate  Fabio,"  she  sighed.  "  How  terri- 
ble it  seems  that  he  is  not  here  to  greet  you  !  How  gladly  he 
would  have  welcomed  any  friend  of  his  father's — he  adored 
his  father,  poor  fellow !  I  cannot  realize  that  he  is  dead. 
It  was  too  sudden,  too  dreadful !  I  do  not  think  I  shall  ever 
recover  the  shock  of  his  loss  !  " 

And  her  eyes  actually  filled  with  tears  j  though  the  fact 
did  not  surprise  me  in  the  least,  for  many  women  can  weep 
at  will.  Very  little  practice  is  necessary — and  we  men  are 
such  fools,  we  never  know  how  it  is  done  ;  we  take  all  the 
pretty  feigned  piteousness  for  real  grief,  and  torture  our- 
selves to  find  methods  of  consolation  for  the  feminine  sorrows 
which  have  no  root  save  in  vanity  and  selfishness.  I  glanced 
quickly  from  my  wife  to  Ferrari :  he  coughed,  and  appeared 
embarrassed — he  was  not  so  good  an  actor  as  she  was  an 
actress.  Studying  them  both,  I  know  not  which  feeling 
gained  the  mastery  in  my  mind — contempt  or  disgust. 

"  Console  yourself,  madame,"  I  said,  coldly.  "  Time 
should  be  quick  to  heal  the  wounds  of  one  so  young  and 
beautiful  as  you  are  !  Personally  speaking,  I  much  regret 
your  husband's  death,  but  I  would  entreat  you  not  to  give 
way  to  grief,  which,  however  sincere,  must  unhappily  be  use- 
less. Your  life  lies  before  you — and  may  happy  days  and 
as  fair  a  future  await  you  as  you  deserve  !  " 

She  smiled,  her  tear-drops  vanished  like  morning  dew  dis- 
appearing in  the  heat. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  good  wisfies,  conte,"  she  said  ;  "  but 
**  rests  with  you  to  commence  my  happy  days  by  honoring 
me  with  a  visit.  You  will  come,  will  you  not  ?  My  house 
^•id  all  that  it  contains  are  at  your  service  ! " 

1  hesitated.     Ferrari  looked  amused. 

"  Madame  is  not  aware  of  your  dislike  to  the  society  of 
ladies,  conte,"  he  said,  and  there  was  a  touch  of  mockery 
in  his  tone.  I  glanced  at  him  coldly,  and  addressed  my 
answer  to  my  wife. 


114  VENDETTA  t 

"  Signer  Ferrari  is  perfectly  right,"  I  said,  bending  over 
her,  and  speaking  in  a  low  tone  ;  "  I  am  often  ungallant 
enough  to  avoid  the  society  of  mere  women,  but,  alas !  I 
have  no  armor  of  defense  against  the  smile  of  an  angel." 

And  I  bowed  with  a  deep  and  courtly  reverence.  Her 
face  brightened — she  adored  her  own  loveliness,  and  the 
desire  of  conquest  awoke  in  her  immediately.  She  took  a 
glass  of  wine  from  my  hand  with  a  languid  grace,  and  fixed 
her  glorious  eyes  full  on  me  with  a  smile. 

"  That  is  a  very  pretty  speech,"  she  said,  sweetly,  "  and  it 
means,  of  course,  that  you  will  come  to-morrow.  Angels 
exact  obedience  !  Gui — ,  I  mean  Signer  Ferrari,  you  will 
accompany  the  conte  and  show  him  the  way  to  the  villa?  " 

Ferrari  bent  his  head  with  some  stiffness.  He  looked 
slightly  sullen. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see,"  he  observed,  with  some  petulance, 
"  that  your  persuasions  have  carried  more  conviction  to  the 
Conte  Oliva  than  mine.  To  me  he  was  apparently  inflexible." 

She  laughed  gayly.  "  Of  course  !  It  is  only  a  woman  who 
can  always  win  her  own  way — am  I  not  right,  conte  ?  "  And 
she  glanced  up  at  me  with  an  arch  expression  of  mingled 
mirth  and  malice.  What  a  love  of  mischief  she  had  !  She 
saw  that  Guido  was  piqued,  and  she  took  intense  delight  in 
teasing  him  still  further. 

"  I  cannot  tell,  madame,"  I  answered  her.  "  I  know  so 
little  of  your  charming  sex  that  I  need  to  be  instructed.  But 
I  instinctively  feel  that  you  must  be  right,  whatever  you  say. 
Your  eyes  would  convert  an  infidel  !  " 

Again  she  looked  at  me  with  one  of  those  wonderfully 
brilliant,  seductive,  arrowy  glances — then  she  rose  to  take 
her  leave. 

"  An  angel's  visit  truly,"  I  said,  lightly,  "  sweet,  but  brief ! " 

"  We  shall  meet  to-morrow,"  she  replied,  smiling.  "  I 
consider  I  have  your  promise  ;  you  must  not  fail  me  !  Come 
as  early  as  you  like  in  the  afternoon,  then  you  will  see  my 
little  girl  Stella.  She  is  very  like  poor  Fabio.  Till  to-mor- 
row, adieu  ! " 

She  extended  her  hand.  I  raised  it  to  my  lips.  She 
smiled  as  she  withdrew  it,  and  looking  at  me,  or  rather  at 
the  glasses  I  wore,  she  inquired  : 

"  You  suffer  with  your  eyes  ?." 

"  Ah,  madame,  a  terrible  infirmity  !  I  cannot  endure  the 
light.  But  I  should  not  complain — it  is  a  weakness  common 
to  age/' 


VENDETTA  I  115 

"You  do  not  seem  to  be  old,"  she  said,  thoughtfully. 
With  a  woman's  quick  eye  she  had  noted,  I  suppose,  the  un- 
wrinkled  smoothness  of  my  skin,  which  no  disguise  could 
alter.  But  I  exclaimed  with  affected  surprise  : 

"  Not  old  !     With  these  white  hairs  !  " 

"  Many  young  men  have  them,"  she  said.  "  At  any  rate, 
they  often  accompany  middle  age,  or  what  is  called  the  prime 
of  life.  And  really,  in  your  case,  they  are  very  becoming  !  " 

And  with  a  courteous  gesture  of  farewell  she  moved  to 
leave  the  room.  Both  Ferrari  and  myself  hastened  to  escort 
her  downstairs  to  her  carriage,  which  stood  in  waiting  at  the 
door — the  very  carriage  and  pair  of  chestnut  ponies  which 
I  myself  had  given  her  as  a  birthday  present.  Ferrari 
offered  to  assist  her  in  mounting  the  step  of  the  vehicle ;  she 
put  his  arm  aside  with  a  light  jesting  word  and  accepted 
mine  instead.  I  helped  her  in,  and  arranged  her  embroidered 
wraps  about  her  feet,  and  she  nodded  gayly  to  us  both  as  we 
stood  bareheaded  in  the  afternoon  sunlight  watching  her 
departure.  The  horses  started  at  a  brisk  canter,  and  in  a 
couple  of  minutes  the  dainty  equipage  was  out  of  sight. 
When  nothing  more  of  it  could  be  seen  than  the  cloud  of 
dust  stirred  up  by  its  rolling  wheels,  I  turned  to  look  at  my 
companion.  His  face  was  stern,  and  his  brows  were  drawn 
together  in  a  frown.  Stung  already !  I  thought.  Already 
the  little  asp  of  jealousy  commenced  its  bitter  work !  The 
trifling  favor  his  light-o'-love  and  my  wife  had  extended  to 
me  in  choosing  my  arm  instead  of  his  as  a  momentary  sup- 
port had  evidently  been  sufficient  to  pique  his  pride.  God ! 
what  blind  bats  men  are  !  With  all  their  high  capabilities 
and  immortal  destinies,  with  all  the  world  before  them  to 
conquer,  they  can  sink  unnerved  and  beaten  down  to  impo- 
tent weakness  before  the  slighting  word  or  insolent  gesture 
of  a  frivolous  feminine  creature,  whose  best  devotions  are 
paid  to  the  mirror  that  reflects  her  in  the  most  becoming 
light !  How  easy  would  be  my  vengeance,  I  mused,  as  I 
watched  Ferrari.  I  touched  him  on  the  shoulder  ;  he  started 
from  his  uncomfortable  reverie  and  forced  a  smile.  I  held 
out  a  cigar-case. 

"  What  are  you  dreaming  of  ?  "  I  asked  him,  laughingly. 
"  Hebe  as  she  waited  on  the  gods,  or  Venus  as  she  rose  in 
bare  beauty  from  the  waves  ?  Either,  neither,  or  both  ?  I 
assure  you  a  comfortable  smoke  is  as  pleasant  in  its  way  as 
the  smile  of  a  woman." 

H«  took  a  cigar  and  lighted  it,  but  made  no  answer. 


Ii6  VENDETTA! 

"You  are  dull,  my  friend,"  I  continued,  gayly,  hooking  my 
arm  through  his  and  pacing  him  up  and  down  on  the  turf  in 
front  of  his  studio.  **  Wit,  they  say,  should  be  sharpened  by 
the  glance  of  a  bright  eye ;  how  comes  it  that  the  edge  of 
your  converse  seems  blunted  ?  Perhaps  your  feelings  are 
too  deep  for  words  ?  If  so,  I  do  not  wonder  at  it,  for  the 
lady  is  extremely  lovely." 

He  glanced  quickly  at  me. 

"  Did  I  not  say  so  ? "  he  exclaimed.  "  Of  all  creatures  un- 
der heaven  she  is  surely  the  most  perfect !  Even  you,  conte, 
with  your  cynical  ideas  about  women,  even  you  were  quite 
subdued  and  influenced  by  her  ;  I  could  see  it !  " 

I  puffed  slowly  at  my  cigar  and  pretended  to  meditate. 

"  Was  I  ?  "  I  said  at  last,  with  an  air  of  well-acted  sur- 
prise. "  Really  subdued  and  influenced  ?  I  do  not  think  so. 
But  I  admit  I  have  never  seen  a  woman  so  entirely  beautiful." 

He  stopped  in  his  walk,  loosened  his  arm  from  mine,  and 
regarded  me  fixedly. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  he  said,  deliberately.  "  You  must  remem- 
ber that  I  told  you  so.  And  now  perhaps  I  ought  to  warn 
you." 

"Warn  me  !  "  1  exclaimed,  in  feigned  alarm.  "  Of  what  ? 
against  whom  ?  Surely  not  the  Contessa  Romani,  to  whom 
you  were  so  anxious  to  introduce  me  ?  She  has  no  illness,  no 
infectious  disorder  ?  She  is  not  dangerous  to  life  or  limb,  is 
she?" 

Ferrari  laughed  at  the  anxiety  I  displayed  for  my  own 
bodily  safety — an  anxiety  which  I  managed  .to  render  almost 
comic — but  he  looked  somewhat  relieved  too. 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  said,  "  I  meant  nothing  of  that  kind.  I  only 
think  it  fair  to  tell  you  that  she  has  very  seductive  manners, 
and  she  may  pay  you  little  attentions  which  would  flatter  any 
man  who  was  not  aware  that  they  are  only  a  part  of  her  child- 
like, pretty  ways  ;  in  short,  they  might  lead  him  erroneously 
to  suppose  himself  the  object  of  her  particular  preference, 
and " 

I  broke  into  a  violent  fit  of  laughter,  and  clapped  him 
roughly  on  the  shoulder. 

"Your  warning  is  quite  unnecessary,  my  good  young 
friend,"  I  said.  "  Come  now,  do  I  look  a  likely  man  to  at- 
tract the  attention  of  an  adored  and  capricious  beauty  ?  Be- 
sides, at  my  age  the  idea  is  monstrous  1  I  could  figure  as  her 
father,  as  yours,  if  you  like,  but  in  the  capacity  of  a  lover- 
impossible  i " 


VENDETTA!  I  If 

He  eyed  me  attentively. 

"  She  said  you  did  not  seem  old,"  he  murmured,  half  to 
himself  and  half  to  me. 

"  Oh,  I  grant  you  she  made  me  that  little  compliment,  cer- 
tainly," I  answered,  amused  at  the  suspicions  that  evidently 
tortured  his  mind  ;  "  and  I  accepted  it  as  it  was  meant — in 
kindness.  I  am  well  aware  what  a  battered  and  unsightly 
wreck  of  a  man  I  must  appear  in  her  eyes  when  contrasted 
with  you,  Sir  Antinous  !  " 

He  flushed  warmly.  Then,  with  a  half-apologetic  air,  he 
said  : 

"  Well,  you  must  forgive  me  if  I  have  seemed  overscrupu- 
lous. The  contessa  is  like  a — a  sister  to  me ;  in  fact,  my 
late  friend  Fabio  encouraged  a  fraternal  affection  between 
us,  and  now  he  is  gone  I  feel  it  more  than  ever  my  duty  to 

Srotect  her,  as  it  were,  from  herself.     She  is  so  young  and 
ght-hearted  and  thoughtless  that — but  you  understand  me, 
do  you  not  ?  " 

I  bowed.  I  understood  him  perfectly.  He  wanted  no  more 
poachers  on  the  land  he  himself  had  pilfered.  Quite  right, 
from  his  point  of  view !  But  I  was  the  rightful  owner  of  the 
land  after  all,  and  I  naturally  had  a  different  opinion  of  the 
matter.  However,  I  made  no  remark,  and  feigned  to  be 
rather  bored  by  the  turn  the  conversation  was  taking.  Seeing 
this,  Ferrari  exerted  himself  to  be  agreeable  ;  he  became  a  gay 
and  entertaining  companion  once  more,  and  after  he  had  fixed 
the  hour  for  our  visit  to  the  Villa  Romani  the  next  afternoon, 
our  talk  turned  upon  various  matters  connected  with  Naples 
and  its  inhabitants  and  their  mode  of  life.  I  hazarded  a  few 
remarks  on  the  general  immorality  and  loose  principles  that 
prevailed  among  the  people,  just  to  draw  my  companion  out 
and  sound  his  character  more  thoroughly — though  I  thought 
I  knew  his  opinions  well. 

"  Pooh,  my  dear  conte,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  light  laugh, 
as  he  threw  away  the  end  of  his  cigar,  and  watched  it  as  it 
burned  dully  like  a  little  red  lamp  among  the  green  grass 
where  it  had  fallen,  "  what  is  immorality  after  all  ?  Merely  a 
matter  of  opinion.  Take  the  hackneyed  virtue  of  conjugal 
fidelity.  When  followed  out  to  the  better  end  what  is  the  good 
of  it — where  does  it  lead  ?  Why  should  a  man  be  tied  to  one 
woman  when  he  has  love  enough  for  twenty  ?  The  pretty 
slender  girl  whom  he  chose  as  a  partner  in  his  impulsive 
youth  may  become  a  fat,  coarse,  red-faced  female  horror  by 
the  time  he  has  attained  to  the  full  vigor  of  manhood :  and 


lig  VENDETTA! 

yet,  as  long  as  she  lives,  the  law  insists  that  the  full  tide  of 
passion  shall  flow  always  in  one  direction — always  to  the  same 
dull,  level,  unprofitable  shore  !  The  law  is  absurd,  but  it  ex- 
ists ;  and  the  natural  consequence  is  that  we  break  it.  Society 
pretends  to  be  horrified  when  we  do — yes,  I  know  ;  but  it  is 
all  pretense.  And  the  thing  is  no  worse  in  Naples  than  it  is 
in  London,  the  capital  of  the  moral  British  race,  only  here  we 
are  perfectly  frank,  and  make  no  effort  to  hide  our  little  sins, 
while  there,  they  cover  them  up  carefully  and  make  believe 
to  be  virtuous.  It  is  the  veriest  humbug — the  parable  of 
Pharisee  and  Publican  over  again. 

"  Not  quite,"  I  observed  ;  "  for  the  Publican  was  repentant, 
and  Naples  is  not." 

'•  Why  should  she  be  ?  "  demanded  Ferrari,  gayly  ;  "  what, 
in  the  name  of  Heaven,  is  the  good  of  being  penitent  about 
anything  ?  Will  it  mend  matters  ?  Who  is  to  be  pacified  or 
pleased  by  our  contrition  ?  God  ?  My  dear  conte,  there  are 
very  few  of  us  nowadays  who  believe  in  a  Deity.  Creation  is 
a  mere  caprice  of  the  natural  elements.  The  best  thing  we 
can  do  is  to  enjoy  ourselves  while  we  live ;  we  have  a  very 
short  time  of  it,  and  when  we  die  there  is  an  end  of  all  things 
so  far  as  we  are  concerned." 

"  That  is  your  creed  ? "  I  asked. 

"  That  is  my  creed,  certainly.  It  was  Solomon's  in  his 
heart  of  hearts.  '  Eat,  drink  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we 
die.'  It  is  the  creed  of  Naples,  and  of  nearly  all  Italy.  Of 
course  the  vulgar  still  cling  to  exploded  theories  of  supersti- 
tious belief,  but  the  educated  classes  are  far  beyond  the  old- 
world  notions." 

"  I  believe  you,"  I  answered,  composedly.  I  had  no  wish 
to  argue  with  him ;  I  only  sought  to  read  his  shallow  soul 
through  and  through  that  I  might  be  convinced  of  his  utter 
worthlessness.  "  According  to  modern  civilization  there  is 
really  no  special  need  to  be  virtuous  unless  it  suits  us.  The 
only  thing  necessary  for  pleasant  living  is  to  avoid  public 
scandal." 

"  Just  so  ! "  agreed  Ferrari ;  "  and  that  can  always  be  easily 
managed.  Take  a  woman's  reputation — nothing  is  so  easily 
lost,  we  all  know,  before  she  is  actually  married  ;  but  marry 
her  well,  and  she  is  free.  She  can  have  a  dozen  lovers  if  she 
likes,  and  if  she  is  a  good  manager  her  husband  need  never  be 
the  wiser.  He  has  his  amours,  of  course — why  should  she 
not  have  hers  also  ?  Only  some  women  are  clumsy,  they  are 
over-stnsitive  and  beUay  themselves  too  easily  ;  then  the 


VENDETTA!  119 

injured  husband  (carefully  concealing  his  little  peccadilloes) 
finds  everything  out  and  there  is  a  devil  of  a  row — a  moral 
row,  which  is  the  worst  kind  of  row.  But  a  really  clever 
woman  can  always  steer  clear  of  slander  if  she  likes." 

Contemptible  ruffian  !  I  thought,  glancing  at  his  hand- 
some face  and  figure  with  scarcely  veiled  contempt.  With 
all  his  advantages  of  education  and  his  well-bred  air  he  was 
yet  ruffian  to  the  core — as  low  in  nature,  if  not  lower,  than 
the  half-savage  tramp  for  whom  no  social  law  has  ever  ex- 
isted or  ever  will  exist.  But  I  merely  observed  : 

"  It  is  easy  to  see  that  you  have  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
the  world  and  its  ways.  I  admire  your  perception  !  From 
your  remarks  I  judge  that  you  have  no  sympathy  with  marital 
wrongs  ? " 

"  Not  the  least,"  he  replied,  dryly  ;  "  they  are  too  common 
and  too  ludicrous.  The  '  wronged  husband,'  as  he  con- 
siders himself  in  such  cases,  always  cuts  such  an  absurd 
figure." 

"  Always  ?  "  I  inquired,  with  apparent  curiosity. 

"  Well,  generally  speaking,  he  does.  How  can  he  remedy 
the  matter  ?  He  can  only  challenge  his  wife's  lover.  A  duel 
is  fought  in  which  neither  of  the  opponents  are  killed,  they 
wound  each  other  slightly,  embrace,  weep,  have  coffee  to- 
gether, and  for  the  future  consent  to  share  the  lady's  affec- 
tions amicably." 

"  Veramente  /  "  I  exclaimed,  with  a  forced  laugh,  inwardly 
cursing  his  detestable  flippancy ;  "  that  is  the  fashionable 
mode  of  taking  vengeance  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  the  one  respectable  way  of  doing  it,"  he 
replied  ;  "  it  is  only  the  canaille  who  draw  heart's  blood  in 
earnest." 

Only  the  canaille  !  I  looked  at  him  fixedly.  His  smiling 
eyes  met  mine  with  a  frank  and  fearless  candor.  Evidently 
he  was  not  ashamed  of  his  opinions,  he  rather  gloried  in 
them.  As  he  stood  there  with  the  warm  sunlight  playing 
upon  his  features  he  seemed  the  very  type  of  youthful  and 
splendid  manhood  ;  an  Apollo  in  exterior — in  mind  a  Silenus. 
My  soul  sickened  at  the  sight  of  him.  I  felt  that  the  sooner 
this  strong  treacherous  life  was  crushed  the  better ;  there 
would  be  one  traitor  less  in  the  world  at  any  rate.  The 
thought  of  my  dread  but  just  purpose  passed  over  me  like  the 
breath  of  a  bitter  wind — a  tremor  shook  my  nerves.  My 
face  must  have  betrayed  some  sign  of  my  inward  emotion,  fgr 
Ferrari  exclaimed : 


£20  VENDETTA! 

"  You  are  fatigued,  conte  ?  You  are  ill !  Pray  take  my 
arm  !  " 

He  extended  it  as  he  spoke.    I  put  it  gently  but  firmly  aside. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  I  said,  coldly  ;  "  a  mere  faintness  which 
often  overcomes  me,  the  remains  of  a  recent  illness."  Here 
I  glanced  at  my  watch  ;  the  afternoon  was  waning  rapidly. 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me,"  I  continued,  "  I  will  now  take 
leave  of  you.  Regarding  the  pictures  you  have  permitted 
me  to  select,  my  servant  shall  call  for  them  this  evening  to 
save  you  the  trouble  of  sending  them." 

"It  is  no  trouble "  began  Ferrari. 

"  Pardon  me,"  I  interrupted  him  ;  "  you  must  allow  me  to 
arrange  the  matter  in  my  own  way.  I  am  somewhat  self- 
willed,  as  you  know." 

He  bowed  and  smiled — the  smile  of  a  courtier  and  syco- 
phant— a  smile  I  hated.  He  eagerly  proposed  to  accompany 
me  back  to  my  hotel,  but  I  declined  this  offer  somewhat  per- 
emptorily, though  at  the  same  time  thanking  him  for  his 
courtesy.  The  truth  was  I  had  had  almost  too  much  of  his 
society ;  the  strain  on  my  nerves  began  to  tell ;  I  craved  to 
be  alone.  I  felt  that  if  I  were  much  longer  with  him  I  should 
be  tempted  to  spring  at  him  and  throttle  the  life  out  of  him. 
As  it  was,  I  bade  him  adieu  with  friendly  though  constrained 
politeness ;  he  was  profuse  in  his  acknowledgments  of  the 
favor  I  had  done  him  by  purchasing  his  pictures.  I  waived 
all  thanks  aside,  assuring  him  that  my  satisfaction  in  the 
matter  far  exceeded  his,  and  that  I  was  proud  to  be  the  pos- 
sessor of  such  valuable  proofs  of  his  genius.  He  swallowed 
my  flattery  as  eagerly  as  a  fish  swallows  bait,  and  we  parted 
on  excellent  terms.  He  watched  me  from  his  door  as  I 
walked  down  the  hilly  road  with  the  slow  and  careful  step  of 
an  elderly  man  ;  once  out  of  his  sight,  however,  I  quickened 
my  pace,  for  the  tempest  of  conflicting  sensations  within  me 
made  it  difficult  for  me  to  maintain  even  the  appearance  of 
composure.  On  entering  my  apartment  at  the  hotel  the  first 
thing  that  met  my  eyes  was  a  large  gilt  osier  basket,  filled 
with  fine  fruit  and  flowers,  placed  conspicuously  on  the 
center-table. 

I  summoned  my  valet.     "  Who  sent  this  ?  "  I  demanded. 

"  Madame  the  Contessa  Romani,"  replied  Vincenzo,  with 
discreet  gravity.  "  There  is  a  card  attached,  if  the  eccel- 
lenza  will  be  pleased  to  look." 

I  did  look.     It  was  my  wife's  visiting-card,  and  on  it 
written  in  her  own  delicate  penmanship— 


VENDETTA!  12 1 

"  To  remind  the  conte  of  his  promised  visit  to-morrow." 

A  sudden  anger  possessed  me.  I  crumpled  up  the  dainty 
glossy  bit  of  pasteboard  and  flung  it  aside.  The  mingled 
odors  of  the  fruit  and  flowers  offended  my  senses. 

"  I  care  nothing  for  these  trifles,"  I  said,  addressing  Vin- 
cenzo  almost  impatiently.  "  Take  them  to  the  little  daughter 
of  the  hotel-keeper  ;  she  is  a  child,  she  will  appreciate  them. 
Take  them  away  at  once." 

Obediently  Vincenzo  lifted  the  basket  and  bore  it  out  of  the 
room.  I  was  relieved  when  its  fragrance  and  color  had  van- 
ished. I,  to  receive  as  a  gift,  the  product  of  my  own  garden  ! 
Half  vexed,  half  sore  at  heart,  I  threw  myself  into  an  easy- 
chair — anon  I  laughed  aloud !  So  !  Madame  commences 
the  game  early,  I  thought.  Already  paying  these  marked  at- 
tentions to  a  man  she  knows  nothing  of  beyond  that  he  is  re- 
ported to  be  fabulously  wealthy.  Gold,  gold  forever!  What 
will  it  not  do !  It  will  bring  the  proud  to  their  knees,  it  will 
force  the  obstinate  to  servile  compliance,  it  will  conquer 
aversion  and  prejudice.  The  world  is  a  slave  to  its  yellow 
glitter,  and  the  love  of  woman,  that  perishable  article  of 
commerce,  is  ever  at  its  command.  Would  you  obtain  a  kiss 
from  a  pair  of  ripe-red  lips  that  seem  the  very  abode  of 
honeyed  sweetness  ?  Pay  for  it  then  with  a  lustrous  dia- 
mond ;  the  larger  the  gem  the  longer  the  kiss  !  The  more 
diamonds  you  give,  the  more  caresses  you  will  get.  The 
jeunesse  doree  who  ruin  themselves  and  their  ancestral  homes 
for  the  sake  of  the  newest  and  prettiest  female  puppet  on  the 
stage  know  this  well  enough.  I  smiled  bitterly  as  I  thought 
of  the  languid  witching  look  my  wife  had  given  me  when  she 
said,  "  You  do  not  seem  to  be  old  !  "  I  knew  the  meaning 
of  her  eyes ;  I  had  not  studied  their  liquid  lights  and  shadows 
so  long  for  nothing.  My  road  to  revenge  was  a  straight  and 
perfectly  smooth  line — almost  too  smooth.  I  could  have 
wished  for  some  difficulty,  some  obstruction  ;  but  there  was 
none — absolutely  none.  The  traitors  walked  deliberately 
into  the  trap  set  for  them.  Over  and  over  again  I  asked 
myself  quietly  and  in  cold  blood — was  there  any  reason  why 
I  should  have  pity  on  them  ?  Had  they  shown  one  redeem- 
ing point  in  their  characters  ?  Was  there  any  nobleness, 
any  honesty,  any  real  sterling  good  quality  in  either  of 
them  to  justify  my  consideration  ?  And  always  the  an- 
swer came,  No  /  Hollow  to  the  heart's  core,  hypocrites 
both,  liars  both — even  the  guilty  passion  they  cherished  for 
one  another  had  no  real  earnestness  in  k  save  the  pursuit  o| 


122  VENDETTA ! 

present  pleasure  ;  for  she,  Nina,  in  that  fatal  interview  in  the 
avenue  where  I  had  been  a  tortured  listener,  had  hinted  at 
the  possibility  of  tiring  of  her  lover,  and  he  had  frankly  de- 
clared to  me  that  very  day  that  it  was  absurd  to  suppose  a 
man  could  be  true  to  one  woman  all  his  life.  In  brief,  they 
deserved  their  approaching  fate.  Such  men  as  Guido  and 
such  women  as  my  wife,  are,  I  know,  common  enough  in  all 
classes  of  society,  but  they  are  not  the  less  pernicious  ani- 
mals, meriting  extermination  as  much,  if  not  more,  than  the 
less  harmful  beasts  of  prey.  The  poor  beasts  at  any  rate  tell 
too  lies,  and  after  death  their  skins  are  of  some  value ;  but 
who  shall  measure  the  mischief  done  by  a  false  tongue — and 
of  what  use  is  the  corpse  oZ  a  liar  save  to  infect  the  air  with 
pestilence  ?  I  used  to  wonder  at  the  superiority  of  men  over 
(he  rest  of  the  animal  creation,  but  I  see  now  that  it  is  chiefly 
gained  by  excess  of  selfish  cunning.  The  bulky,  good- 
natured,  ignorant  lion  who  has  only  one  honest  way  of  de- 
fending himself,  namely  with  tooth  and  claw,  is  no  match  for 
the  jumping  two-legged  little  rascal  who  hides  himself  behind 
a  bush  and  fires  a  gun  aimed  direct  at  the  bigger  brute's 
heart.  Yet  the  lion's  mode  of  battle  is  the  braver  of  the  two, 
and  the  cannons,  torpedoes  and  other  implements  of  modern 
warfare  are  proofs  of  man's  cowardice  and  cruelty  as  much 
is  they  are  of  his  diabolical  ingenuity.  Calmly  comparing 
the  ordinary  lives  of  men  and  beasts — judging  them  by  their 
abstract  virtues  merely — I  am  inclined  to  think  the  beasts 
the  more  respectable  of  the  two ! 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  WELCOME  to  Villa  Romani !  " 

The  words  fell  strangely  on  my  ears.  Was  I  dreaming,  or 
was  I  actually  standing  on  the  smooth  green  lawn  of  my  own 
garden,  mechanically  saluting  my  own  wife,  who,  smiling 
sweetly,  uttered  this  cordial  greeting  ?  For  a  moment  or  two 
my  brain  became  confused ;  the  familiar  veranda  with  its 
clustering  roses  and  jasmine  swayed  unsteadily  before  my 
eyes  ;  the  stately  house,  the  home  of  my  childhood,  the  scene 
of  my  past  happiness,  rocked  in  the  air  as  though  it  were 
about  to  fall.  A  choking  sensation  affected  my  throat. 
Even  the  sternest  men  shed  tears  sometimes.  Such  tears 
too  !  wrung  Jikjt  drops  of  blood  from  the  heart.  And  I — I 
could  have  wept  thus.  Oh,  the  dear  old  home !  and  how 


VENDETTA\  123 

fair  and  yet  how  sad  it  seemed  to  my  anguished  gaze  !  It 
should  have  been  in  ruins  surely — broken  and  cast  down  in 
the  dust  like  its  master's  peace  and  honor.  Its  master,  did 
I  say?  Who  was  its  master?  Involuntarily  I  glanced  at 
Ferrari,  who  stood  beside  me.  Not  he — not  he  ;  by  Heaven 
he  should  never  be  master  !  But  where  was  my  authority  ? 
I  came  to  the  place  as  a  stranger  and  an  alien.  The  starv- 
ing beggar  who  knows  not  where  to  lay  his  head  has  no 
emptier  or  more  desolate  heart  than  I  had  as  I  looked  wist- 
fully on  the  home  which  was  mine  before  I  died  !  I  noticed 
some  slight  changes  here  and  there  ;  for  instance,  my  deep 
easy-chair  that  had  always  occupied  one  particular  corner 
of  the  veranda  was  gone ;  a  little  tame  bird  that  I  had  loved, 
whose  cage  used  to  hang  up  among  the  white  roses  on  the 
wall,  was  also  gone.  My  old  butler,  the  servant  who  ad- 
mitted Ferrari  and  myself  within  the  gates,  had  an  expres- 
sion of  weariness  and  injury  on  his  aged  features  which  he 
had  not  worn  in  my  time,  and  which  I  was  sorry  to  see. 
And  my  dog,  the  noble  black  Scotch  colly,  what  had  become 
of  him,  I  wondered?  He  had  been  presented  to  me  by  a 
young  Highlander  who  had  passed  one  winter  with  me  in 
Rome,  and  who,  on  returning  to  his  native  mountains,  had 
sent  me  the  dog,  a  perfect  specimen  of  its  kind,  as  a  souvenir 
of  our  friendly  intercourse.  Poor  Wyvis  !  I  thought.  Had 
they  made  away  with  him  ?  Formerly  he  had  always  been 
visible  about  the  house  or  garden  ;  his  favorite  place  was  on 
the  lowest  veranda  step,  where  he  loved  to  bask  in  the  heat 
of  the  sun.  And  now  he  was  nowhere  visible.  I  was  mutely 
indignant  at  his  disappearance,  but  I  kept  strict  watch  over 
my  feelings,  and  remembered  in  time  the  part  I  had  to  play. 

"  Welcome  to  Villa  Romani  !  "  so  said  my  wife.  Then, 
remarking  my  silence  as  I  looked  about  me,  she  added  with 
a  pretty  coaxing  air, 

"  I  am  afraid  after  all  you  are  sorry  you  have  come  to  see 
me!" 

I  smiled.  It  served  my  purpose  now  to  be  as  gallant  and 
agreeable  as  I  could  ;  therefore  I  answered  : 

"  Sorry,  madame !  If  I  were,  then  should  I  be  the  most 
ungrateful  of  all  men !  Was  Dante  sorry,  think  you,  when 
he  was  permitted  to  behold  Paradise  ? " 

She  blushed;  her  eyes  drooped  softly  under  their  long 
curling  lashes.  Ferrari  frowned  impatiently — but  was  silent. 
She  led  the  way  into  the  house — into  the  lofty  cool  drawing- 
room,  whose  wide  windows  opened  out  to  the  garden.  Here 


114  VENDETTA! 

all  was  the  same  as  ever  with  the  exception  of  one  thing — a 
marble  bust  of  myself  as  a  boy  had  been  removed.  The 
grand  piano  was  open,  the  mandoline  lay  on  a  side-table,  look- 
ing as  though  it  had  been  recently  used ;  there  were  fresh 
flowers  and  ferns  in  all  the  tall  Venetian  glass  vases.  I 
seated  myself  and  remarked  on  the  beauty  of  the  house  and 
its  surroundings. 

"  I  remember  it  very  well,"  I  added,  quietly. 

"  You  remember  it !  "  exclaimed  Ferrari,  quickly,  as  though 
surprised. 

"  Certainly.  I  omitted  to  tell  you,  my  friend,  that  I  used 
to  visit  this  spot  often  when  a  boy.  The  elder  Conte 
Romani  and  myself  played  about  these  grounds  together. 
The  scene  is  quite  familiar  to  me." 

Nina  listened  with  an  appearance  of  interest. 

"  Did  you,  ever  see  my  late  husband  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Once,"  I  answered  her,  gravely.  "  He  was  a  mere  child 
at  the  time,  and,  as  far  as  I  could  discern,  a  very  promising 
one.  His  father  seemed  greatly  attached  to  him.  I  knew 
his  mother  also." 

"  Indeed,"  she  exclaimed,  settling  herself  on  a  low  otto- 
man and  fixing  her  eyes  upon  me  ;  "what  was  she  like  ?  " 

I  paused  a  moment  before  replying.  Could  I  speak  of 
that  unstained  sacred  life  of  wifehood  and  motherhood  to 
this  polluted  though  lovely  creature  ? 

"  She  was  a  beautiful  woman  unconscious  of  her  beauty," 
I  answered  at  last.  "  There,  all  is  said.  Her  sole  aim 
seemed  to  be  to  forget  herself  in  making  others  happy,  and 
to  surround  her  home  with  an  atmosphere  of  goodness  and 
virtue.  She  died  young." 

Ferrari  glanced  at  me  with  an  evil  sneer  in  his  eyes. 

"  That  was  fortunate,"  he  said.  "  She  had  no  time  to  tire 
of  her  husband,  else — who  knows  ? " 

My  blood  rose  rapidly  to  an  astonishing  heat,  but  I  con- 
trolled myself. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  I  said,  with  marked  frigidity. 
"  The  lady  I  speak  of  lived  and  died  under  the  old  regime  of 
noblesse  oblige.  I  am  not  so  well  versed  in  modern  social 
forms  of  morality  as  yourself." 

Nina  hastily  interposed.  "  Oh,  my  dear  conte,"  she  said, 
laughingly,  "  pay  no  attention  to  Signer  Ferrari !  He  is  rash 
sometimes,  and  says  very  foolish  things,  but  he  really  does 
not  mean  them.  It  is  only  his  way  !  My  poor  dear  husband 
used  to  be  quite  vexed  with  him  sometimes,  though  he  wa$ 


VEND  ETTA  f  125 

SO  fond  of  him.  But,  conte,  as  you  know  so  much  about 
the  family,  I  am  sure  you  will  like  to  see  my  little  Stella. 
Shall  I  send  for  her,  or  are  you  bored  by  children  ? " 

"  On  the  contrary,  madame,  I  am  fond  of  them,"  I  an- 
swered, with  forced  composure,  though  my  heart  throbbed 
with  mingled  delight  and  agony  at  the  thought  of  seeing  my 
little  one  again.  "  And  the  child  of  my  old  friend's  son  must 
needs  have  a  double  interest  for  me." 

My  wife  tang  the  bell,  and  gave  orders  to  the  maid  who 
answered  it  to  send  her  little  girl  to  her  at  once.  Ferrari 
meanwhile  engaged  me  in  conversation,  and  strove,  I  could 
see,  by  entire  deference  to  my  opinions,  to  make  up  for  any 
offense  his  previous  remark  might  have  given.  A  few  mo- 
ments passed — and  then  the  handle  of  the  drawing-room 
door  was  timidly  turned  by  an  evidently  faltering  and  un- 
practiced  hand.  Nina  called  out  impatiently — "Come  in, 
baby !  Do  not  be  afraid — come  in  !  "  With  that  the  door 
slowly  opened  and  my  little  daughter  entered.  Though  I 
had  been  so  short  a  time  absent  from  her  it  was  easy  to  see 
the  child  had  changed  very  much.  Her  face  looked  pinched 
and  woe-begone,  its  expression  was  one  of  fear  and  distrust. 
The  laughter  had  faded  out  of  her  young  eyes,  and  was  re- 
placed by  a  serious  look  of  pained  resignation  that  was  piti- 
ful to  see  in  one  of  her  tender  years.  Her  mouth  drooped 
plaintively  at  the  corners — her  whole  demeanor  had  an  ap- 
pealing anxiety  in  it  that  spoke  plainly  to  my  soul  and  en- 
lightened me  as  to  the  way  she  had  evidently  been  forgotten 
and  neglected.  She  approached  us  hesitatingly,  but  stopped 
half-way  and  looked  doubtfully  at  Ferrari.  He  met  her 
alarmed  gaze  with  a  mocking  smile. 

"  Come  along,  Stella  !  "  he  said.  "  You  need  not  be  fright- 
ened !  I  will  not  scold  you  unless  you  are  naughty.  Silly 
child !  you  look  as  if  I  were  the  giant  in  the  fairy  tale,  go- 
ing  to  eat  you  up  for  dinner.  Come  and  speak  to  this  gen- 
tleman — he  knew  your  papa." 

At  this  word  her  eyes  brightened,  her  small  steps  grevi 
more  assured  and  steady — she  advanced  and  put  her  tiny 
hand  in  mine.  The  touch  of  the  soft,  uncertain  little  fingers 
almost  unmanned  me.  I  drew  her  toward  me  and  lifted  her 
on  my  knee.  Under  pretense  of  kissing  her  I  hid  my  face 
for  a  second  or  two  in  her  clustering  fair  curls,  while  I  forced 
back  the  womanish  tears  that  involuntarily  filled  my  eyes. 
My  poor  little  darling  !  I  wonder  now  how  I  maintained  my 
set  composure  before  the  innocent  thoughtfulness  of  her 


12$  VENDETTA  I 

gravely  questioning  gaze  !  I  had  fancied  she  might  possibly 
be  scared  by  the  black  spectacles  I  wore — children  are 
frightened  by  such  things  sometimes — but  she  was  not.  No  ; 
she  sat  on  my  knee  with  an  air  of  perfect  satisfaction,  though 
she  looked  at  me  so  earnestly  as  almost  to  disturb  my  self- 
possession.  Nina  and  Ferrari  watched  her  with  some  amuse- 
ment, but  she  paid  no  heed  to  them — she  persisted  in  staring 
at  me.  Suddenly  a  slow  sweet  smile — the  tranquil  smile  of 
a  contented  baby,  dawned  all  over  her  face ;  she  extended 
her  little  arms,  and,  of  her  own  accord,  put  up  her  lips  to 
kiss  me  !  Half  startled  at  this  manifestation  of  affection,  I 
hurriedly  caught  her  to  my  heart  and  returned  her  caress, 
then  I  looked  furtively  at  my  wife  and  Guido.  Had  they 
any  suspicion  ?  No  !  why  should  they  have  any  ?  Had  not 
Ferrari  himself  seen  me  buried  1  Reassured  by  this  thought 
I  addressed  myself  to  Stella,  making  my  voice  as  gratingly 
harsh  as  I  could,  for  I  dreaded  the  child's  quick  instinct. 

"  You  are  a  very  charming  little  lady  !  "  I  said,  playfully. 
"  And  so  your  name  is  Stella  ?  That  is  because  you  are  a 
little  star,  I  suppose  ? " 

She  became  meditative.  "  Papa  said  I  was,"  she  answered, 
softly  and  shyly. 

"  Papa  spoiled  you  !  "  interposed  Nina,  pressing  a  filmy 
black-bordered  handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  "  Poor  papa  I 
You  were  not  so  naughty  to  him  as  you  are  to  me." 

The  child's  lip  quivered,  but  she  was  silent. 

"  Oh,  f y  !  "  I  murmured,  half  chidingly.  "  Are  you  ever 
naughty  ?  Surely  not !  All  little  stars  are  good — they  never 
cry — they  are  always  bright  and  calm." 

Still  she  remained  mute — a  sigh,  deep  enough  for  an  older 
sufferer,  heaved  her  tiny  breast.  She  leaned  her  head  against 
my  arm  and  raised  her  eyes  appealingly. 

"  Have  you  seen  my  papa  ? "  she  asked,  timidly.  "  Will 
he  come  back  soon  ? " 

For  a  moment  I  did  not  answer  her.  Ferrari  took  it  upon 
himself  to  reply  roughly. 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense,  baby !  You  know  your  papa  has 
gone  away — you  were  too  naughty  for  him,  and  he  will  never 
come  back  again.  He  has  gone  to  a  place  where  there  are  no 
tiresome  little  girls  to  tease  him." 

Thoughtless  and  cruel  words  !  I  at  once  understood  the 
secret  grief  that  weighed  on  the  child's  mind.  Whenever 
she  was  fretful  or  petulant,  they  evidently  impressed  it  upon 
her  that  her  father  had  left  her  because  of  her  naughtiness. 


VENDETTA! 


1*7 


She  had  taken  this  deeply  to  heart ;  no  doubt  she  had 
brooded  upon  it  in  her  own  vague  childish  fashion,  and  haci! 
puzzled  her  little  brain  as  to  what  she  could  possibly  have 
done  to  displease  her  father  so  greatly  that  he  had  actually 
gone  away  never  to  return.  Whatever  her  thoughts  were, 
she  did  not  on  this  occasion  give  vent  to  them  by  tears  or 
words.  She  only  turned  her  eyes  on  Ferrari  with  a  look  of 
intense  pride  and  scorn,  strange  to  see  in  so  little  a  creature 
— a  true  Romani  look,  such  as  I  had  often  noticed  in  my 
father's  eyes,  and  such  as  I  knew  must  be  frequently  visible 
in  my  own.  Ferrari  saw  it,  and  burst  out  laughing  loudly. 

"  There  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Like  that  she  exactly  re- 
sembles her  father  !  It  is  positively  ludicrous  !  Fabio,  all 
over !  She  only  wants  one  thing  to  make  the  portrait  perfect." 
And  approaching  her,  he  snatched  one  of  her  long  curls  and 
endeavored  to  twist  it  over  her  mouth  in  the  form  of  a  mus- 
tache. The  child  struggled  angrily,  and  hid  her  face  against 
my  coat.  The  more  she  tried  to  defend  herself  the  greater 
the  malice  with  which  Ferrari  tormented  her.  Her  mother 
did  not  interfere — she  only  laughed.  I  held  the  little  thing 
closely  sheltered  in  my  embrace,  and  steadying  down  the 
quiver  of  indignation  in  my  voice,  I  said  with  quiet  firmness  : 

"  Fair  play,  signor  !  Fair  play  !  Strength  becomes  mere 
bullying  when  it  is  employed  against  absolute  weakness." 

Ferrari  laughed  again,  but  this  time  uneasily,  and  ceasing 
his  monkeyish  pranks,  walked  to  the  window.  Smoothing 
Stella's  tumbled  hair,  I  added  with  a  sarcastic  smile  : 

"This  little  donzella  will  have  her  revenge  when  she  grows 
up.  Recollecting  how  one  man  teased  her  in  childhood,  she, 
in  return,  will  consider  herself  justified  in  teasing  all  men. 
Do  you  not  agree  with  me,  madame  ? "  I  said,  turning  to  my 
wife,  who  gave  me  a  sweetly  coquettish  look  as  she  answered  : 

"  Well,  really,  conte,  I  do  not  know  !  For  with  the  remem- 
brance of  one  man  who  teased  her,  must  come  also  the 
thought  of  another  who  was  kind  to  her — yourself — she  will 
find  it  difficult  to  decide  the  juste  milieu" 

A  subtle  compliment  was  meant  to  be  conveyed  in  these 
words.  I  acknowledged  it  by  a  silent  gesture  of  admiration, 
which  she  quickly  understood  and  accepted.  Was  ever  a 
man  in  the  position  of  being  delicately  flattered  by  his  own 
wife  before  ?  I  think  not !  Generally  married  persons  are 
like  candid  friends — fond  of  telling  each  other  very  unpleas- 
ant truths,  and  altogether  avoiding  the  least  soup$on  of 
flattery.  Thouerh  I  was  not  so  much  flattered  as  amused— 


ia8  VENDETTA! 

considering  the  position  of  affairs.  Just  then  a  servant  threw 
open  the  door  and  announced  dinner.  I  set  my  child  very 
gently  down  from  my  knee  and  whisperingly  told  her  that  I 
would  come  and  see  her  soon  again.  She  smiled  trustfully, 
and  then  in  obedience  to  her  mother's  imperative  gesture, 
slipped  quietly  out  of  the  room.  As  soon  as  she  had  gone 
I  praised  her  beauty  warmly,  for  she  was  really  a  lovely  little 
thing — but  I  could  see  my  admiration  of  her  was  not  very 
acceptable  to  either  my  wife  or  her  lover.  We  all  went  in  to 
dinner — I,  as  guest,  having  the  privilege  of  escorting  my  fair 
and  spotless  spouse !  On  our  reaching  the  dining-room 
Nina  said — 

"  You  are  such  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  conte,  that  per- 
haps you  will  not  mind  sitting  at  th?  head  of  the  table  1  " 

"  Tropp*  onore,  signora  !  "  I  answered,  bowing  gallantly,  as 
I  at  once  resumed  my  rightful  place  at  my  own  table,  Ferrari 
placing  himself  on  my  right  hand,  Nina  on  my  left.  The 
butler,  my  father's  servant  and  mine,  .stood  as  of  old  behind 
my  chair,  and  I  noticed  that  each  time  he  supplied  me  with 
wine  he  eyed  me  with  a  certain  timid  curiosity — but  I  knew 
I  had  a  singular  and  conspicuous  appearance,  which  easily 
accounted  for  his  inquisitiveness.  Opposite  to  where  I  sat, 
hung  my  father's  portrait — the  character  I  personated  per- 
mitted me  to  look  at  it  fixedly  and  give  full  vent  to  the  deep 
sigh  which  in  very  earnest  broke  from  my  heart.  The  eyes 
of  the  picture  seemed  to  gaze  into  mine  with  a  sorrowful 
compassion — almost  I  fancied  the  firm-set  lips  trembled  and 
moved  to  echo  my  sigh. 

"  Is  that  a  good  likeness  ?  "  Ferrari  asked,  suddenly. 

I  started,  and  recollecting  myself,  answered  : 

"  Excellent !  So  true  a  resemblance  that  it  arouses  a  long 
train  of  memories  in  my  mind — memories  both  bitter  and 
sweet.  Ah  !  what  a  proud  fellow  he  was ! " 

"  Fabio  was  also  very  proud,"  chimed  in  my  wife's  sweet 
voice.  "  Very  cold  and  haughty  " 

Little  liar  !  How  dared  she  utter  this  libel  on  my  mem* 
ory  !  Haughty,  I  might  have  been  to  others,  but  never  to 
her — and  coldness  was  no  part  of  my  nature.  Would  that  it 
were  !  Would  that  I  had  been  a  pillar  of  ice,  incapable  of 
thawing  in  the  sunlight  of  her  witching  smile  !  Had  she 
forgotten  what  a  slave  I  was  to  her  ?  what  a  poor,  adoring, 
passionate  fool  I  became  under  the  influence  of  her  hypo- 
critical caresses  1  I  thought  this  to  myself,  but  I  answered 
aloud; 


VENDETTA!  129 

"  Indeed  !  I  am  surprised  to  hear  that.  -  The  Romani 
hauteur  had  ever  to  my  mind  something  genial  and  yielding 
about  it — I  know  my  friend  was  always  most  gentle  to  his 
dependents." 

The  butler  here  coughed  apologetically  behind  his  hand 
— an  old  trick 'of  his,  and  one  which  signified  his  intense  de- 
sire to  speak. 

Ferrari  laughed,  as  he  held  out  his  glass  for  more  wine. 

"  Here  is  old  Giacomo,"  he  said,  nodding  to  him  lightly. 
"  He  remembers  both  the  Romanis — ask  him  his  opinion  of 
Fabio — he  worshiped  his  master." 

I  turned  to  my  servant,  and  with  a  benignant  air  addressed 
him : 

"Your  face  is  not  familiar  to  me,  my  friend,"  I  said. 
"  Perhaps  you  were  not  here  when  I  visited  the  elder  Count 
Romani  ? " 

"  No,  eccellenza,"  replied  Giacomo,  rubbing  his  withered 
hands  nervously  together,  and  speaking  with  a  sort  of  sup- 
pressed eagerness,  "  I  came  into  my  lord's  service  only  a  year 
before  the  countess  died — I  mean  the  mother  of  the  young 
count." 

"  Ah !  then  I  missed  making  your  acquaintance,"  I  said, 
kindly,  pitying  the  poor  old  fellow,  as  I  noticed  how  his  lips 
trembled,  and  how  altogether  broken  he  looked.  "  You  knew 
the  last  count  from  childhood,  then  ?" 

"  I  did,  eccellenza  !  "  And  his  bleared  eyes  roved  over  me 
with  a  sort  of  alarmed  inquiry. 

**  You  loved  him  well  ?  "  I  said,  composedly,  observing  him 
with  embarrassment. 

"  Eccellenza,  I  never  wish  to  serve  a  better  master.  He 
was  goodness  itself — a  fine,  handsome,  generous  lad — the 
saints  have  his  soul  in  their  keeping  !  Though  sometimes  I 
cannot  believe  he  is  dead — my  old  heart  almost  broke  when 
I  heard  it.  I  have  never  been  the  same  since — my  lady  will 
tell  you  so — she  is  often  displeased  with  me." 

And  he  looked  wistfully  at  her  ;  there  was  a  note  of  plead- 
ing in  his  hesitating  accents.  My  wife's  delicate  brows  drew 
together  in  a  frown  ;  a  frown  that  I  had  once  thought  came 
from  mere  petulance,  but  which  I  was  now  inclined  to  accept 
as  a  sign  of  temper. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Giacomo,"  she  said,  in  hard  tones,  altogether 
unlike  her  usual  musical  voice.  "  You  are  growing  so  forget- 
ful that  it  is  positively  annoying.  You  know  I  have  often  to 
9 


I30  VENDETTA ! 

tell  you  the  same  thing  several  times.  One  command  ought 
to  be  sufficient  for  you." 

Giacomo  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead  in  a  troubled 
way,  sighed,  and  was  silent.  Then,  as  if  suddenly  recollect- 
ing his  duty,  he  refilled  my  glass,  and  shrinking  aside,  re- 
sumed his  former  position  behind  my  chair. 

The  conversation  now  turned  on  desultory  and  indifferent 
matters.  I  knew  my  wife  was  an  excellent  talker,  but  on  that 
particular  evening  I  think  she  surpassed  herself.  She  had  re- 
solved to  fascinate  me,  that  I  saw  at  once,  and  she  spared  no 
pains  to  succeed  in  her  ambition.  Graceful  sallies,  witty  bon- 
mots  tipped  with  the  pungent  sparkle  of  satire,  gay  stories 
well  and  briskly  told,  all  came  easily  from  her  lips,  so  that 
though  I  knew  her  so  well,  she  almost  surprised  me  by  her 
variety  and  fluency.  Yet  this  gift  of  good  conversation  in  a 
woman  is  apt  to  mislead  the  judgment  of  those  who  listen,  for 
it  is  seldom  the  result  of  thought,  and  still  more  seldom  is  it  a 
proof  of  intellectual  capacity.  A  woman  talks  as  a  brook 
babbles  ;  pleasantly,  but  without  depth.  Her  information  is 
generally  of  the  most  surface  kind — she  skims  the  cream  off 
each  item  of  news,  and  serves  it  up  to  you  in  her  own  fashion, 
caring  little  whether  it  be  correct  or  the  reverse.  And  the 
more  vivaciously  she  talks,  the  more  likely  she  is  to  be  dan- 
gerously insincere  and  cold-hearted,  for  the  very  sharpness  of 
her  wit  is  apt  to  spoil  the  more  delicate  perceptions  of  her  nat- 
ure. Show  me  a  brilliant  woman  noted  for  turning  an  epigram 
or  pointing  a  satire,  and  I  will  show  you  a  creature  whose  life 
is  a  masquerade,  full  of  vanity,  sensuality  and  pride.  The 
man  who  marries  such  a  one  must  be  content  to  take  the 
second  place  in  his  household,  and  play  the  character  of  the 
henpecked  husband  with  what  meekness  he  best  may.  An- 
swer me,  ye  long  suffering  spouses  of  "  society  women,"  how 
much  would  you  give  to  win  back  your  freedom  and  self-re- 
spect ?  to  be  able  to  hold  your  head  up  unabashed  before  your 
own  servants  ?  to  feel  that  you  can  actually  give  an  order  with- 
out its  being  instantly  countermanded  ?  Ah,  my  poor  friends  ! 
millions  will  not  purchase  you  such  joy  ;  as  long  as  your  fas- 
cinating fair  ones  are  like  Caesar's  wife,  "  above  suspicion  " 
(and  they  are  generally  prudent  managers),  so  long  must  you 
dance  in  their  chains  like  the  good-natured  clumsy  bears  that 
you  are,  only  giving  vent  to  a  growl  now  and  then  ;  a  growl 
which  at  best  only  excites  ridicule.  My  wife  was  of  the  true 
world  worldly  ;  never  had  I  seen  her  real  character  so  plainly 
as  now,  when  she  exerted  herself  to  entertain  and  charm  me. 


VENDETTA1  1^1 

I  had  thought  her  spirituelle,  ethereal,  angelic  !  never  was 
there  less  of  an  angel  than  she  !  While  she  talked,  I  was 
quick  to  observe  the  changes  on  Ferrari's  countenance.  He 
became  more  silent  and  sullen  as  her  brightness  and  cordial- 
ity increased.  I  would  not  appear  aware  of  the  growing 
stiffness  in  his  demeanor;  I  continued  to  draw  him  into  the 
conversation,  forcing  him  to  give  opinions  on  various  sub- 
jects connected  with  the  art  of  which  he  was  professedly  a 
follower.  He  was  very  reluctant  to  speak  at  all  ;  and  when 
compelled  to  do  so,  his  remarks  were  curt  and  almost  snap- 
pish, so  much  so  that  my  wife  made  a  laughing  comment  on 
his  behavior. 

"  You  are  positively  ill-tempered,  Guido  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
then  remembering  she  had  addressed  him  by  his  Christian 
name,  she  turned  to  me  and  added — "  I  always  call  him 
Guido,  en  famille ;  you  know  he  is  just  like  a  brother  to 
me." 

He  looked  at  her  and  his  eyes  flashed  dangerously,  but  he 
was  mute.  Nina  was  evidently  pleased  to  see  him  in  such  a 
vexed  mood ;  she  delighted  to  pique  his  pride,  and  as  he 
steadily  gazed  at  her  in  a  sort  of  reproachful  wonder,  she 
laughed  joyously.  Then  rising  from  the  table,  she  made  us 
a  coquettish  courtesy. 

"  I  will  leave  you  two  gentlemen  to  finish  your  wine  to- 
gether," she  said,  "  I  know  all  men  love  to  talk  a  little 
scandal,  and  they  must  be  alone  to  enjoy  it.  Afterward, 
will  you  join  me  in  the  veranda  ?  You  will  find  coffee 
ready." 

I  hastened  to  open  the  door  for  her  as  she  passed  out  smil- 
ing ;  then,  returning  to  the  table,  I  poured  out  more  wine  for 
myself  and  Ferrari,  who  sat  gloomily  eying  his  own  reflection 
in  the  broad  polished  rim  of  a  silver  fruit-dish  that  stood 
near  him.  Giacomo,  the  butler,  had  long  ago  left  the  room  ; 
we  were  entirely  alone.  I  thought  over  my  plans  for  a  mo- 
ment or  two  ;  the  game  was  as  interesting  as  a  problem  in 
chess.  With  the  deliberation  of  a  prudent  player  I  made  my 
next  move. 

"  A  lovely  woman  !  "  I  murmured,  meditatively,  sipping  my 
wine,  "  and  intelligent  also.  I  admire  your  taste,  signor  !  " 

He  started  violently.  "  What — what  do  you  mean  ? "  he 
demanded,  half  fiercely.  I  stroked  my  mustache  and  smiled 
at  him  benevolently. 

"Ah,  young  blood  !  young  blood  !  "  I  sighed,  shaking  my 
head,  "  it  will  have  its  way  !  My  good  sir,  why  be  ashamed 


133  V&N&ETTAt 

of  your  feelings  ?  I  heartily  sympathize  with  you  ;  if  the  lady 
does  not  appreciate  the  affection  of  so  ardent  and  gallant  an 
admirer,  then  she  is  foolish  indeed  !  It  is  not  every  woman 
who  has  such  a  chance  of  happiness." 

"You  think — you  imagine  that — that — I " 

"That  you  are  in  love  with  her?"  I  said,  composedly. 
"  Ma — ccrtamente!  And  why  not?  It  is  as  it  should  be. 
Even  the  late  conte  could  wish  no  fairer  fate  for  his  beauti- 
ful widow  than  that  she  should  become  the  wife  of  his  chosen 
friend.  Permit  me  to  drink  your  health  !  Success  to  your 
love ! "  And  I  drained  my  glass  as  I  finished  speaking. 
Unfortunate  fool  !  He  was  completely  disarmed  ;  his  sus- 
picions of  me  melted  away  like  mist  before  the  morning 
light.  His  face  cleared — he  seized  my  hand  and  pressed  it 
warmly. 

"  Forgive  me,  conte,"  he  said,  with  remorseful  fervor  ;  "  I 
fear  I  have  been  rude  and  unsociable.  Your  kind  words 
have  put  me  right  again.  You  will  think  me  a  jealous  mad- 
man, but  I  really  fancied  that  you  were  beginning  to  feel  an 
attraction  for  her  yourself,  and  actually — (pardon  me,  I  en- 
treat of  you  ! )  actually  I  was  making  up  my  mind  to — to  kill 
you  ! " 

I  laughed  quietly.  "  Veramente !  How  very  amiable  of 
you  !  It  was  a  good  intention,  but  you  know  what  place  is 
paved  with  similar  designs  ?  " 

"  Ah,  conte,  it  is  like  your  generosity  to  take  my  confes- 
sion so  lightly ;  but  I  assure  you,  for  the  last  hour  I  have 
been  absolutely  wretched  !  " 

"  After  the  fashion  of  all  lovers,  I  suppose,"  I  answered — 
"  torturing  yourself  without  necessity  !  Well,  well,  it  is  very 
amusing  !  My  young  friend,  when  you  come  to  my  time  of 
life,  you  will  prefer  the  chink  of  gold  to  the  laughter  and 
kisses  of  women.  How  often  must  I  repeat  to  you  that  I 
am  a  man  absolutely  indifferent  to  the  tender  passion  ?  Be- 
lieve it  or  not,  it  is  true." 

He  drank  off  his  wine  at  one  gulp  and  spoke  with  some 
excitement. 

"  Then  I  will  frankly  confide  in  you.  I  do  love  the  con- 
tessa.  Love  !  it  is  too  weak  a  word  to  describe  what  I  feel. 
The  touch  of  her  hand  thrills  me,  her  very  voice  seems  to 
shake  my  soul,  her  eyes  burn  through  me !  Ah  !  you  cannot 
know  — you  could  not  understand  the  joy,  the  pain — 

"  Calm  yourself,"  I  said,  in  a  cold  tone,  watching  my  vic- 
tim as  his  pent-up  emotion  betrayed  itself.  "  The  great  thing 


VENDETTA!  133 

is  to  keep  the  head  cool  when  the  blood  burns.  You  think 
she  loves  you  ?  " 

"  Think  !  Gran  Dio  !  She  has "  here  he  paused  and  his 

face  flushed  deeply — "  nay  !  I  have  no  right  to  say  anything 
on  that  score.  1  know  she  never  cared  for  her  husband." 

"  I  know  that  too  !  "  I  answered,  steadily.  "  The  most 
casual  observer  cannot  fail  to  notice  it." 

"  Well,  and  no  wonder  !  "  he  exclaimed,  warmly.  "  He 
was  such  an  undemonstrative  fool !  What  business  had  such 
a  fellow  as  that  to  marry  so  exquisite  a  creature  !  " 

My  heart  leaped  with  a  sudden  impulse  of  fury,  but  I  con- 
trolled my  voice  and  answered  calmly : 

"  Requiescat  in  pace !  He  is  dead — let  him  rest.  What- 
ever his  faults,  his  wife  of  course  was  true  to  him  while  he 
lived ;  she  considered  him  worthy  of  fidelity — is  it  not  so?  " 

He  lowered  his  eyes  as  he  replied  in  an  indistinct  tone  : 

"Oh,*certainly!" 

"  And  you — you  were  a  most  loyal  and  faithful  friend  to 
him,  in  spite  of  the  tempting  bright  eyes  of  his  lady  ?  " 

Again  he  answered  huskily,  "  Why,  of  course  ! "  But  the 
shapely  hand  that  rested  on  the  table  so  near  to  mine  trem- 
bled. 

"  Well,  then,"  I  continued,  quietly,  "  the  love  you  bear 
now  to  his  fair  widow  is,  I  imagine,  precisely  what  he  would 
approve.  Being,  as  you  say,  perfectly  pure  and  blameless, 
what  can  I  wish  otherwise  than  this — may  it  meet  with  the  re- 
ward it  deserves  /" 

While  I  spoke  he  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  and  his  eyes 
roved  to  my  father's  picture  with  restless  annoyance.  I  sup- 
pose he  saw  in  it  the  likeness  to  his  dead  friend.  After  a 
moment  or  two  of  silence  he  turned  to  me  with  a  forced 
smile — 

"  And  so  you  really  entertain  no  admiration  for  the  con- 
tessa  ? " 

"  Oh,  pardon  me,  I  do  entertain  a  very  strong  admiration 
for  her,  but  not  of  the  kind  you  seem  to  suspect.  If  it  will 
please  you,  I  can  guarantee  that  I  shall  never  make  love  to 
the  lady  unless " 

"  Unless  what  ? "  he  asked,  eagerly. 

"  Unless  she  happens  to  make  love  to  me,  in  which  case  it 
would  be  ungallant  not  to  reciprocate  !  " 

And  I  laughed  harshly.  He  stared  at  me  in  blank  sur- 
prise. "  She  make  love  to  you  /"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  jest 
She  would  never  do  such  a  thing." 


134  VENDETTA! 

"  Of  course  not ! "  I  answered,  rising  and  clapping  him 
heavily  on  the  shoulder.  "  Women  never  court  men,  it  is 
quite  unheard  of ;  a  reverse  of  the  order  of  nature  !  You  are 
perfectly  safe,  my  friend  ;  you  will  certainly  win  the  recom- 
pense you  so  richly  merit.  Come,  let  us  go  and  drink  coffee 
with  the  fair  one." 

And  arm-in-arm  we  sauntered  out  to  the  veranda  in  the 
most  friendly  way  possible.  Ferrari  was  completely  restored 
to  good  humor,  and  Nina,  I  thought,  was  rather  relieved  to 
see  it.  She  was  evidently  afraid  of  Ferrari — a  good  point 
for  me  to  remember.  She  smiled  a  welcome  to  us  as  we  ap- 
proached, and  began  to  pour  out  the  fragrant  coffee.  It  was 
a  glorious  evening ;  the  moon  was  already  high  in  the 
heavens,  and  the  nightingales'  voices  echoed  softly  from  the 
distant  woods.  As  I  seated  myself  in  a  low  chair  that  was 
placed  invitingly  near  that  of  my  hostess,  my  ears  were 
startled  by  a  long  melancholy  howl,  which  changed  every 
now  and  then  to  an  impatient  whine. 

"  What  is  that  ? "  I  asked,  though  the  question  was  need- 
less, for  I  knew  the  sound. 

"  Oh,  it  is  that  tiresome  dog  Wyvis,"  answered  Nina,  in  a 
vexed  tone.  "  He  belonged  to  Fabio.  He  makes  the  even- 
ing quite  miserable  with  his  moaning." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

''Well,  after  my  husband's  death  he  became  so  trouble- 
some, roaming  all  over  the  house  and  wailing;  and  then  he 
would  insist  on  sleeping  in  Stella's  room  close  to  her  bed- 
side. He  really  worried  me  both  day  and  night,  so  I  was 
compelled  to  chain  him  up." 

Poor  Wyvis  !     He  was  sorely  punished  for  his  fidelity. 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  dogs,". I  said,  slowly,  "  and  they  gen- 
erally take  to  me  with  extraordinary  devotion.  May  I  see 
this  one  of  yours  ? " 

"Oh,  certainly  !     Guido,  will  you  go  and  unfasten  him  ?  " 

Guido  did  not  move ;  he  leaned  easily  back  in  his  chair 
sipping  his  coffee. 

"  Many  thanks,"  he  answered,  with  a  half  laugh  ;  "  per- 
haps you  forget  that  last  time  I  did  so  he  nearly  tore  me  to 
pieces.  If  you  do  not  object,  I  would  rather  Giacomo 
undertook  the  task." 

11  After  such  an  account  of  the  animal's  conduct,  perhaps 
the  conte  will  not  care  to  see  him.  It  is  true  enough,"  turn- 
ing to  me  as  she  spoke,  "  Wyvis  has  taken  a  great  dislike  to 
Signor  Ferrari — and  yet  he  is  a  good-natured  dog,  and  play* 


VENDETTA  !  135 

with  my  little  girl  all  day  if  she  goes  to  him.  Do  you  feel  in- 
clined to  see  him  ?  Yes  ?  "  And,  as  I  bowed  in  the  affirm- 
ative, she  rang  a  Mttle  bell  twice,  and  the  butler  appeared. 

"  Giacomo,"  she  continued,  "  unloose  Wyvis  and  send  him 
here." 

Giacomo  gave  me  another  of  those  timid  questioning 
glances,  and  departed  to  execute  his  order.  In  another  five 
minutes,  the  howling  had  suddenly  ceased,  a  long,  lithe, 
black,  shadowy  creature  came  leaping  wildly  across  the 
moonlighted  lawn — Wyvis  was  racing  at  full  speed.  He 
paid  no  heed  to  his  mistress  or  Ferrari ;  he  rushed  straight 
to  me  with  a  yelp  of  joy.  His  huge  tail  wagged  incessantly, 
he  panted  thirstily  with  excitement,  he  frisked  round  and 
round  my  chair,  he  abased  himself  and  kissed  my  feet  and 
hands,  he  rubbed  his  stately  head  fondly  against  my  knee. 
His  frantic  demonstrations  of  delight  were  watched  by  my 
wife  and  Ferrari  with  utter  astonishment.  I  observed  their 
surprise,  and  said  lightly  : 

"  I  told  you  how  it  would  be  !  It  is  nothing  remarkable, 
I  assure  you.  All  dogs  treat  me  in  the  same  way." 

And  I  laid  my  hand  on  the  animal's  neck  with  a  command- 
ing pressure ;  he  lay  down  at  once,  only  now  and  then  rais- 
ing his  large  wistful  brown  eyes  to  my  face  as  though  he 
wondered  what  had  changed  it  so  greatly.  But  no  disguise 
could  deceive  his  intelligence — the  faithful  creature  knew 
his  master.  Meantime  I  thought  Nina  looked  pale ;  cer- 
tainly the  little  jeweled  white  hand  nearest  to  me  shook 
slightly. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  this  noble  animal,  madame  ?  "  I  asked, 
watching  her  closely.  She  laughed,  a  little  forcedly. 

"  Oh,  no  !  But  Wyvis  is  usually  so  shy  with  strangers,  and 
I  never  saw  him  greet  any  one  so  rapturously  except  my  late 
husband.  It  is  really  very  odd  ! " 

Ferrari,  by  his  looks,  agreed  with  her,  and  appeared  to  be 
uneasily  considering  the  circumstance. 

"  Strange  to  say,"  he  remarked,  "  Wyvis  has  for  once  for- 
gotten me.  He  never  fails  to  give  me  a  passing  snarl." 

Hearing  his  voice,  the  dog  did  indeed  commence  growling 
discontentedly  ;  but  a  touch  from  me  silenced  him.  The 
animal's  declared  enmity  toward  Ferrari  surprised  me — it 
was  quite  a  new  thing,  as  before  my  burial  his  behavior  to 
him  had  been  perfectly  friendly. 

"  I  have  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  dogs  in  my  time,"  I 
,  speaking  in  a  deliberately  composed  voice3  **  I  have 


136  PENDETTA  ! 

found  their  instinct  marvelous  ;  they  generally  seem  to  recog- 
nize at  once  the  persons  who  are  fond  of  their  society.  This 
Wyvis  of  yours,  contessa,  has  no  doubt  discovered  that  I 
have  had  many  friends  among  his  brethren,  so  that  there  is 
nothing  strange  in  his  making  so  much  of  me." 

The  air  of  studied  indifference  with  which  I  spoke,  and 
the  fact  of  my  taking  the  exuberant  delight  of  \Yyvis  as  a 
matter  of  course,  gradually  reassured  the  plainly  disturbed 
feelings  of  my  two  betrayers,  for  after  a  little  pause  the 
incident  was  passed  over,  and  our  conversation  went  on  with 
pleasant  and  satisfactory  smoothness.  Before  my  departure 
that  evening,  however,  1  offered  to  chain  up  the  dog — "  as, 
if  I  do  this,"  I  added,  "  I  guarantee  he  will  not  disturb  your 
night's  rest  by  his  howling." 

This  suggestion  met  with  approval,  and  Ferrari  walked 
with  me  to  show  me  where  the  kennel  stood.  I  chained 
Wyvis,  and  stroked  him  tenderly  ;  he  appeared  to  understand, 
and  he  accepted  his  fate  with  perfect  resignation,  lying 
down  upon  his  bed  of  straw  without  a  sign  of  opposition, 
save  for  one  imploring  look  out  of  his  intelligent  eyes  as  I 
turned  away  and  left  him. 

On  making  my  adieus  to  Nina,  I  firmly  refused  Ferrari's 
offered  companionship  in  the  walk  back  to  my  hotel. 

"  I  am  fond  of  a  solitary  moonlight  stroll,"  I  said.  "  Per- 
mit me  to  have  my  own  way  in  the  matter." 

After  some  friendly  argument  they  yielded  to  my  wishes. 
I  bade  them  both  a  civil  "  good-night,"  bending  low  over  my 
wife's  hand  and  kissing  it,  coldly  enough,  God  knows,  and 
yet  the  action  was  sufficient  to  make  her  flush  and  sparkle 
with  pleasure.  Then  I  left  them,  Ferrari  himself  escorting 
me  to  the  villa  gates,  and  watching  me  pass  out  on  the  open 
road.  As  long  as  he  stood  there,  I  walked  with  a  slow  and 
meditative  pace  toward  the  city,  but  the  instant  I  heard 
the  gate  clang  heavily  as  it  closed,  I  hurried  back  with  a 
cautious  and  noiseless  step.  Avoiding  the  great  entrance, 
I  slipped  round  to  the  western  side  of  the  grounds,  where 
there  was  a  close  thicket  of  laurel  that  extended  almost  up  to 
the  veranda  I  had  just  left.  Entering  this  and  bending  the 
boughs  softly  aside  as  I  pushed  my  way  through,  1  gradually 
reached  a  position  from  whence  I  could  see  the  veranda 
plainly,  and  also  hear  anything  that  passed.  Guido  was 
sitting  on  the  low  chair  1  had  just  vacated,  leaning  his  head 
back  against  my  wife's  breast ;  he  had  reached  up  one  arm 
so  that  it  encircled  her  neck,  and  drew  her  head  down  toward 


VENDETTA!  137 

his.  In  this  half  embrace  they  rested  absolutely  silent  for 
some  moments.  Suddenly  Ferrari  spoke  : 

"  You  are  very  cruel,  Nina !  You  actually  made  me  think 
you  admired  that  rich  old  conte." 

She  laughed.  "  So  I  do  !  He  would  be  really  handsome 
if  he  did  not  wear  those  ugly  spectacles.  And  his  jewels  are 
lovely.  I  wish  he  would  give  me  some  more  !  " 

"And  supposing  he  were  to  do  so,  would  you  care  for  him, 
Nina  ?  "  he  demanded,  jealously.  "  Surely  not.  Besides, 
you  have  no  idea  how  conceited  he  is.  He  says  he  will  never 
make  love  to  a  woman  unless  she  first  makes  love  to  him  ; 
what  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

She  laughed  again,  more  merrily  than  before. 

"  Think  !  Why,  that  he  is  very  original — charmingly  so  ! 
Are  you  coming  in,  Guido  ?  " 

He  rose,  and  standing  erect,  almost  lifted  her  from  her 
chair  and  folded  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Yes,  I  am  coming  in,"  he  answered  ;  "  and  I  will  have  a 
hundred  kisses  for  every  look  and  smile  you  bestowed  on  the 
conte !  You  little  coquette  !  You  would  flirt  with  your 
grandfather  ! " 

She  rested  against  him  with  apparent  tenderness,  one  hand 
playing  with  the  flower  in  his  buttonhole,  and  then  she  said, 
with  a  slight  accent  of  fear  in  her  voice — 

"  Tell  me,  Guido,  do  you  not  think  he  is  a  little  like — like 
Fabio  ?  Is  there  not  a  something  in  his  manner  that  seems 
familiar  ? " 

*'  I  confess  I  have  fancied  so  once  or  twice,"  he  returned, 
musingly ;  "  there  is  rather  a  disagreeable  resemblance.  But 
what  of  that  ?  many  men  are  almost  counterparts  of  each 
other.  But  I  tell  you  what  I  think.  I  am  almost  positive  he 
is  some  long-lost  relation  of  the  family — Fabio's  uncle  for  all 
we  know,  who  does  not  wish  to  declare  his  actual  relation- 
ship. He  is  a  good  old  fellow  enough,  I  believe,  and  is  cer- 
tainly rich  as  Crcesus  ;  he  will  be  a  valuable  friend  to  us  both. 
Come,  sposina  mta,  it  is  time  to  go  to  rest." 

And  they  disappeared  within  the  house,  and  shut  the  win- 
dows after  them.  1  immediately  left  my  hiding-place,  and 
resumed  my  way  toward  Naples.  I  was  satisfied  they  had  no 
suspicion  of  the  truth.  After  all,  it  was  absurd  of  me  to  fancy 
they  might  have,  for  people  in  general  do  not  imagine  it 
possible  for  a  buried  man  to  come  back  to  life  again.  The 
game  was  in  my  own  hands,  and  I  now  resolved  to  play  itout 
with  as  little  delay  as  possible. 


13*  VENDETTA  I 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

TIME  flew  swiftly  on — a  month,  six  weeks,  passed,  and  dur- 
ing that  short  space  I  had  established  myself  in  Napies  as  a 
great  personage — great,  because  of  my  wealth  and  the  style  in 
which  I  lived.  No  one  in  all  the  numerous  families  of  dis- 
tinction that  eagerly  sought  my  acquaintance  cared  \vhetlu-r  I 
had  intellect  or  intrinsic  personal  worth  ;  it  sufficed  to  them 
that  I  kept  a  carriage  and  pair,  an  elegant  and  costly  equi- 
page, softly  lined  with  satin  and  drawn  by  two  Arabian  mares 
as  black  as  polished  ebony.  The  value  of  my  friendship  was 
measured  by  the  luxuriousness  of  my  box  at  the  opera,  and 
by  the  dainty  fittings  of  my  yacht,  a  swift  trim  vessel  furnished 
with  every  luxury,  and  having  on  boar  a  band  of  stringed 
instruments  which  discoursed  sweet  music  when  the  moon 
emptied  her  horn  of  silver  radiance  on  the  rippling  water.  In 
a  little  while  I  knew  everybody  who  was  worth  knowing  in 
Naples  ;  everywhere  my  name  was  talked  of,  my  doings  were 
chronicled  in  the  fashionable  newspapers  ;  stories  of  my  lavish 
generosity  were  repeated  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  the  most 
highly  colored  reports  of  my  immense  revenues  were  whis- 
pered with  a  kind  of  breathless  awe  at  every  cafe  and  street 
corner.  Tradesmen  waylaid  my  reticent  valet,  Vincenzo,  and 
gave  him  douceurs  in  the  hope  he  would  obtain  my  custom 
for  them — "  tips  "  which  he  pocketed  in  his  usual  reserved 
and  discreet  manner,  but  which  he  was  always  honest  enough 
to  tell  me  of  afterward.  He  would  most  faithfully  give  me 
the  name  and  address  of  this  or  that  particular  tempter  of  his 
fidelity,  always  adding — "  As  to  whether  the  rascal  sells  good 
things  or  bad  our  Lady  only  knows,  but  truly  he  gave  me 
thirty  francs  to  secure  your  excellency's  good-will.  Though 
for  all  that  I  would  not  recommend  him  if  your  excellency- 
knows  of  an  honester  man  !  " 

Among  other  distinctions  which  my  wealth  forced  upon  me, 
were  the  lavish  attentions  of  match-making  mothers.  Th< 
black  spectacles  which  I  always  wore,  were  not  repulsive  t<. 
these  diplomatic  dames — on  the  contrary,  some  of  them  as- 
sured me  they  were  most  becoming,  so  anxious  were  they  to 
secure  me  as  a  son-in-law.  Fair  girls  in  their  teens,  blushing 
and  ingenuous,  were  artfully  introduced  to  me — or,  I  should 
say,  thrust  forward  like  slaves  in  a  market  for  my  inspection 
^—though,  to  do  them  justice,  they  were  remarkably  shrewd 


VENDETTA!  139 

and  sharp-witted  for  their  tender  years.  Young  as  they  were, 
they  were  keenly  alive  to  the  importance  of  making  a  good 
match — and  no  doubt  the  pretty  innocents  laid  many  dainty 
schemes  in  their  own  minds  for  liberty  and  enjoyment  when 
one  or  the  other  of  them  should  become  the  Countess  Oliva 
and  fool  the  old  black-spectacled  husband  to  her  heart's  con- 
tent. Needless  to  say  their  plans  were  not  destined  to  be  ful- 
filled, though  I  rather  enjoyed  studying  the  many  devices 
they  employed  to  fascinate  me.  What  pretty  ogling  glances 
I  received  ! — what  whispered  admiration  of  my  "  beautiful 
white  hair  !  so  distingue  /" — what  tricks  of  manner,  alternating 
from  grave  to  gay,  from  rippling  mirth  to  witching  languor  ! 
Many  an  evening  I  sat  at  ease  on  board  my  yacht,  watching 
with  a  satirical  inward  amusement,  one,  perhaps  two  or  three 
of  these  fair  schemers  ransacking  their  youthful  brains  for 
new  methods  to  entrap  the  old  millionaire,  as  they  thought 
me,  into  the  matrimonial  net.  I  used  to  see  their  eyes — 
sparkling  with  light  in  the  sunshine — grow  liquid  and  dreamy 
in  the  mellow  radiance  of  the  October  moon,  and  turn  upon 
me  with  a  vague  wistfulness  most  lovely  to  behold,  and — most 
admirably  feigned !  I  could  lay  my  hand  on  a  bare  round 
white  arm  and  not  be  repulsed — I  could  hold  little  clinging 
fingers  in  my  own  as  long  as  I  liked  without  giving  offense — 
such  are  some  of  the  privileges  of  wealth ! 

In  all  the  parties  of  pleasure  I  formed,  and  these  were 
many — my  wife  and  Ferrari  were  included  as  a  matter  of 
course.  At  first  Nina  demurred,  with  some  plaintive  excuse 
concerning  her  "  recent  terrible  bereavement,"  but  I  easily 
persuaded  her  out  of  this.  I  even  told  some  ladies  I  knew 
to  visit  her  and  add  their  entreaties  to  mine,  as  I  said,  with 
the  benignant  air  of  an  elderly  man,  that  it  was  not  good  for 
one  so  young  to  waste  her  time  and  injure  her  health  by  use- 
less grieving.  She  saw  the  force  of  this,  I  must  admit,  with 
admirable  readiness,  and  speedily  yielded  to  the  united  in- 
vitations she  received,  though  always  with  a  well-acted  re- 
luctance, and  saying  that  she  did  so  merely  "  because  the 
Count  Oliva  was  such  an  old  friend  of  the  family  and  knew 
my  poor  dear  husband  as  a  child." 

On  Ferrari  I  heaped  all  manner  of  benefits.  Certain  debts 
of  his  contracted  at  play  I  paid  privately  to  surprise  him — 
his  gratitude  was  extreme.  I  humored  him  in  many  of  his 
small  extravagances — I  played  with  his  follies  as  an  angler 
plays  the  fish  at  the  end  of  his  line,  and  I  succeeded  in  win- 
ning his  confidence.  Not  that  I  ever  could  surprise  him  into 


14.0  VENDETTA  J 

a  confession  of  his  guilty  amour — but  he  kept  me  well  in* 
formed  as  to  what  ho  was  pleased  to  call  "the  progress  of 
his  attachment,"  and  supplied  me  with  many  small  details 
which,  while  they  fired  my  blood  and  brain  to  wrath,  steadied 
me  more  surely  in  my  plan  of  vengeance.  Little  did  he 
dream  in  whom  he  was  trusting ! — little  did  he  know  into 
whose  hands  he  was  playing  !  Sometimes  a  kind  of  awful 
astonishment  would  come  over  me  as  I  listened  to  his  trivial 
talk,  and  heard  him  make  plans  for  a  future  that  was  never 
to  be.  He  seemed  so  certain  of  his  happiness — so  absolutely 
sure  that  nothing  could  or  would  intervene  to  mar  it.  Trai- 
tor as  he  was  he  was  unable  to  foresee  punishment — materialist 
to  the  heart's  core,  he  had  no  knowledge  of  the  divine  law  of 
compensation.  Now  and  then  a  dangerous  impulse  stirred 
me — a  desire  to  say  to  him  point-blank : 

"  You  are  a  condemned  criminal — a  doomed  man  on  the 
brink  of  the  grave.  Leave  this  light  converse  and  frivolous 
jesting — and,  while  there  is  time,  prepare  for  death  !  " 

Bu*t  I  bit  my  lips  and  kept  stern  silence.  Often,  too,  I 
felt  disposed  to  seize  him  by  the  throat,  and,  declaring  ijiy 
identity,  accuse  him  of  his  treachery  to  his  face,  but  I  always 
remembered  and  controlled  myself.  One  point  in  his  char- 
acter I  knew  well — I  had  known  it  of  old — this  was  his  exces- 
sive love  of  good  wine.  I  aided  and  abetted  him  in  this  weak- 
ness, and  whenever  he  visited  me  I  took  care  that  he  should 
have  his  choice  of  the  finest  vintages.  Often  after  a  convivial 
evening  spent  in  my  apartments  with  a  few  other  young  men 
of  his  class  and  caliber,  he  reeled  out  of  my  presence,  his 
deeply  flushed  face  and  thick  voice  bearing  plain  testimony  as 
to  his  condition.  On  these  occasions  I  used  to  consider  with 
a  sort  of  fierce  humor  how  Nina  would  receive  him — for 
though  she  saw  no  offense  in  the  one  kind  of  vice  she  herself 
practiced,  she  had  a  particular  horror  of  vulgarity  in  any 
form,  and  drunkenness  was  one  of  those  low  failings  she 
specially  abhorred. 

"  Go  to  your  lady-love,  mon  beau  Silenus  !  "  I  would  think, 
as  I  watched  him  leaving  my  hotel  with  a  couple  of  his  boon 
companions,  staggering  and  laughing  loudly  as  he  went,  or 
singing  the  last  questionable  street-song  of  the  Neapolitan 
bas-peuple.  "  You  are  in  a  would-be  riotous  and  savage  mood 
— her  finer  animal  instincts  will  revolt  from  you,  as  a  lithe 
gazelle  would  fly  from  the  hideous  gambols  of  a  rhinoceros. 
She  is  already  afraid  of  you — in  a  little  while  she  will  loofc 


VENDETTA  t  141 

Upon  you  with  loathing  and  disgust — tant pis  pour  vous,  tant 
m ieux  pour  moi  ! ' ' 

I  had  of  course  attained  the  position  of  ami  intime  at  tho 
Villa  Roman i.  I  was  welcome  there  at  any  hour — I  could 
examine  and  read  my  own  books  in  my  own  library  at  leisure 
(what  a  privilege  was  mine)  ;  I  could  saunter  freely  through  the 
beautiful  gardens  accompanied  by  Wyvis,  who  attended  me 
as  a  matter  of  course ;  in  short,  the  house  was  almost  at  my 
disposal,  though  I  never  passed  a  night  under  its  roof.  I 
carefully  kept  up  my  character  as  a  prematurely  elderly  man, 
slightly' invalided  by  a  long  and  ardous  career  in  far-off 
foreign  lands,  and  I  was  particularly  prudent  in  my  behavior 
toward  my  wife  before  Ferrari.  Never  did  I  permit  the 
least  word  or  action  on  my  part  that  could  arouse  his  jealousy 
or  suspicion.  •  I  treated  her  with  a  sort  of  parental  kindness 
and  reserve,  but  she — trust  a  woman  for  intrigue  ! — she  was 
quick  to  perceive  my  reasons  for  so  doing.  Directly  Ferrari's 
back  was  turned  she  would  look  at  me  with  a  glance  of  co- 
quettish intelligence,  and  smile — a  little  mocking,  half-pet- 
ulant smile — or  she  would  utter  some  disparaging  remark 
about  him,  combining  with  it  a  covert  compliment  to  me. 
It  was  not  for  me  to  betray  her  secrets — I  saw  no  occasion 
to  tell  Ferrari  that  nearly  every  morning  she  sent  her  maid 
to  my  hotel  with  fruit  and  flowers  and  inquiries  after  my 
health — nor  was  my  valet  Vincenzo  the  man  to  say  that  he 
carried  gifts  and  similar  messages  from  me  to  her.  But  at 
the  commencement  of  November  things  were  so  far  advanced 
that  I  was  in  the  unusual  position  of  being  secretly  courted 
by  my  own  wife  ! — I  reciprocating  her  attentions  with  equal 
secrecy  !  The  fact  of  my  being  often  in  the  company  of  other 
ladies  piqued  her  vanity — she  knew  that  I  was  considered  a 
desirable  parti — and — she  resolved  to  win  me.  In  this  case 
I  also  resolved — to  be  won  !  A  grim  courtship  truly — be- 
tween a  dead  man  and  his  own  widow  !  Ferrari  never  sus- 
pected what  was  going  on  ;  he  had  spoken  of  me  as  "  that 
poor  fool  Fabio,  he  was  too  easily  duped ;  yet  never  was  there 
one  more  "  easily  duped  "  than  himself,  or  to  whom  the 
epithet  "  poor  fool  "  more  thoroughly  applied.  As  I  said  be- 
fore, he  was  sure — too  sure  of  his  own  good  fortune.  I  wished 
to  excite  his  distrust  and  enmity  sometimes,  but  this  I  found 
I  could  not  do.  He  trusted  me — yes  !  as  much  as  in  the 
old  days  I  had  trusted  him.  Therefore,  the  catastrophe  for 
him  must  be  sudden  as  well  as  fatal — perhaps,  after  all,  it 
was  better  so. 


I42  VENDETTA! 

During  my  frequent  visits  to  the  villa  I  saw  much  of  m^ 
child  Stella.  She  became  passionately  attached  to  me — poor 
little  thing! — her  love  was  a  mere  natural  instinct,  had  she 
but  known  it.  Often,  too,  her  nurse,  Assunta,  would  bring 
her  to  my  hotel  to  pass  an  hour  or  so  with  me.  This  was 
a  great  treat  to  her,  and  her  delight  reached  its  climax  when 
I  took  her  on  my  knee  and  told  her  a  fairy  story — her  favor- 
ite one  being  that  of  a  good  little  girl  whose  papa  suddenly 
went  away,  and  how  the  little  girl  grieved  for  him  till  at  last 
some  kind  fairies  helped  her  to  find  him  again.  I  was  at 
first  somewhat  afraid  of  old  Assunta — she  had  been  my  nurse 
— was  it  possible  that  she  would  not  recognize  me  ?  The 
first  time  1  met  her  in  my  new  character  I  almost  held  my 
breath  in  a  sort  of  suspense — but  the  good  old  woman  was 
nearly  blind,  and  I  think  she  could  scarce  make  out  my 
lineaments.  She  was  of  an  entirely  different  nature  to 
Giacomo  the  butler — she  thoroughly  believed  her  master  to 
be  dead,  as  indeed  she  had  every  reason  to  do,  but  strange 
to  say,  Giacoma  did  not.  The  old  man  had  a  fanatical  notion 
that  his  "  young  lord  "  could  not  have  died  so  suddenly,  and 
he  grew  so  obstinate  on  the  point  that  my  wife  declared  he 
must  be  going  crazy.  Assunta,  on  the  other  hand,  would  talk 
volubly  of  my  death  and  tell  me  with  assured  earnestness : 

"  It  was  to  be  expected,  eccellenza — he  was  too  good  for 
us,  and  the  saints  took  him.  Of  course  our  Lady  wanted 
him — she  always  picks  out  the  best  among  us.  The  poor 
Giacomo  will  not  listen  to  me,  he  grows  weak  and  childish, 
and  he  loved  the  master  too  well — better,"  and  here  her 
voice  would  deepen  into  reproachful  solemnity,  "  yes,  better 
actually  than  St.  Joseph  himself  !  And  of  course  one  is 
punished  for  such  a  thing.  I  always  knew  my  master  would 
die  young — he  was  too  gentle  as  a  baby,  and  too  kind-hearted 
as  a  man  to  stay  here  long." 

And  she  would  shake  her  gray  head  and  feel  for  the  beads 
of  her  rosary,  and  mutter  many  an  Ave  for  the  repose  of 
my  soul.  Much  as  I  wished  it,  I  could  never  get  her  to  talk 
about  her  mistress — it  was  the  one  subject  on  which  she  was 
invariably  silent.  On  one  occasion  when  I  spoke  with  ap- 
parent enthusiasm  of  the  beauty  and  accomplishments  of  the 
young  countess,  she  glanced  at  me  with  sudden  and  earnest 
scrutiny — sighed — but  said  nothing.  I  was  glad  to  see  how 
thoroughly  devoted  she  was  to  Stella,  and  the  child  returned 
her  affection  with  interest — though  as  the  November  days 
came  on  apace,  my  little  one  looked  far  from  5trong.  She 


VENDETTA! 


'43 


paled  and  grew  thin,  her  eyes  looked  preternaturally  large 
and  solemn,  and  she  was  very  easily  wearied.  I  called  As- 
sunta's  attention  to  these  signs  of  ill-health  ;  she  replied  that 
she  had  spoken  to  the  countess,  but  that  "  madam  "  had 
taken  no  notice  of  the  child's  weakly  condition.  Afterward 
I  mentioned  the  matter  myself  to  Nina,  who  merely  smiled 
gratefully  up  in  my  face  and  answered : 

"  Really,  my  dear  conte,  you  are  too  good  !  There  is  noth- 
ing the  matter  with  Stella,  her  health  is  excellent;  she  eats 
too  many  bombons,  perhaps,  and  is  growing  rather  fast,  that 
is  all.  How  kind  you  are  to  think  of  her !  But,  I  assure  you, 
she  is  quite  well." 

I  did  not  feel  so  sure  of  this,  yet  I  was  obliged  to  conceal 
my  anxiety,  as  overmuch  concern  about  the  child  would  not 
have  been  in  keeping  with  my  assumed  character. 

It  was  a  little  past  the  middle  of  November,  when  a  circum- 
stance occurred  that  gave  impetus  to  my  plans,  and  hurried 
them  to  full  fruition.  The  days  were  growing  chilly  and  sad 
even  in  Naples — yachting  excursions  were  over,  and  I  was 
beginning  to  organize  a  few  dinners  and  balls  for  the  approach- 
ing winter  season,  when  one  afternoon  Ferrari  entered  my 
room,  unannounced  and  threw  himself  into  the  nearest  chair 
with  an  impatient  exclamation,  and  a  vexed  expression  of 
countenance. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  I  asked,  carelessly,  as  I  caught  a 
furtive  glance  of  his  eyes.  "  Anything  financial  ?  Pray  draw 
upon  me  !  I  will  be  a  most  accommodating  banker !  " 

He  smiled  uneasily  though  gratefully. 

"  Thanks,  conte — but  it  is  nothing  of  that  sort — it  is — gran 
Dio  /  what  an  unlucky  wretch  I  am  !  " 

"  I  hope,"  and  here  I  put  on  an  expression  of  the  deepest 
anxiety,  "  I  hope  the  pretty  contessa  has  not  played  you 
false  ?  she  has  refused  to  marry  you  ? " 

He  laughed  with  a  disdainful  triumph  in  his  laughter. 

"  Oh,  as  far  as  that  goes  there  is  no  danger  !  She  dares 
not  play  me  false." 

"  Dares  not !  That  is  rather  a  strong  expression,  my 
friend  ! "  And  I  stroked  my  beard  and  looked  at  him 
steadily.  He  himself  seemed  to  think  he  had  spoken  too 
openly  and  hastily — for  he  reddened  as  he  said  with  a  little 
embarassment : 

"  Well,  I  did  not  mean  that  exactly — of  course  she  is  per- 
fectly free  to  do  as  she  likes — but  she  cannot,  I  think,  refuse 
me  after  showing  me  so  much  encouragement." 


144 

I  waved  my  hand  with  an  airy  gesture  of  amicable  agree- 
ment. 

"Certainly not,"  I  said,  "unless she  be  an  arrant  coquette 
and  therefore  a  worthless  woman  •,  and  you,  who  know  so  well 
her  intrinsic  goodness  and  purity,  have  no  reason  to  fear. 
But,  if  not  love  or  money,  what  is  it  that  troubles  you?  It 
must  be  serious,  to  judge  from  your  face." 

He  played  absently  with  a  ring  I  had  given  him,  turning  it 
round  and  round  upon  his  finger  many  times  before  reply- 
ing. 

"Well,  the  fact  is,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  am  compelled  to  go 
away — to  leave  Naples  for  a  time." 

My  heart  gave  an  expectant  throb  of  satisfaction.  Going 
away ! — leaving  Naples  ! — turning  away  from  the  field  of 
battle  and  allowing  me  to  gain  the  victory  !  Fortune  surely 
favored  me.  But  I  answered  with  feigned  concern  : 

"Going  a  way!  Surely  you  cannot  mean  it.  Why? — what 
for  ?  and  where  ?  " 

"  An  uncle  of  mine  is  dying  in  Rome,"  he  answered,  cross- 
ly. "  He  has  made  me  his  heir,  and  I  am  bound  for  the  sake 
of  decency  to  attend  his  last  moments.  Rather  protracted  last 
moments  they  threaten  to  be  too,  but  the  lawyers  say  I  had 
better  be  present,  as  the  old  man  may  take  it  into  his  head 
to  disinherit  me  at  the  final  gasp.  I  suppose  I  shall  not  be 
absent  long — a  fortnight  at  most — and  in  the  meanwhile " 

Here  he  hesitated  and  looked  at  me  anxiously. 

"  Continue,  caro  mio,  continue  !  "  I  said  with  some  impa- 
tience. "  If  I  can  do  anything  in  your  absence,  you  have 
only  to  command  me." 

He  rose  from  his  chair,  and  approaching  the  window  where 
I  sat  in  a  half-reclining  position,  he  drew  a  small  chair  oppo- 
site mine,  and  sitting  down,  laid  one  hand  confidingly  on  my 
wrist. 

"You  can  do  much  !  "  he  replied,  earnestly,  "and  I  feel 
that  I  can  thoroughly  depend  upon  you.  Watch  over  her) 
She  will  have  no  other  protector,  and  she  is  so  beautiful  an<i 
careless!  You  can  guard  her — your  age,  your  rank  and  posi- 
tion, the  fact  of  your  being  an  old  friend  of  the  family — all 
these  things  warrant  your  censorship  and  vigilance  over  her, 
and  you  can  prevent  any  other  man  from  intruding  himself 
upon  her  notice " 

"  If  he  does,"  I  exclaimed,  starting  up  from  my  seat  with 
a  mock  tragic  air,  "  1 'will not  rest  till  his  body  serves  my  sword 
as  a  sheath!" 


VENDETTA  I  145 

And  I  laughed  loudly,  clapping  him  on  the  shoulder  as  I 
spoke.  The  words  were  the  very  same  he  had  himself  uttered 
when  I  had  witnessed  his  interview  with  my  wife  in  the 
avenue.  He  seemed  to  find  something  familiar  in  the  phrase, 
for  he  looked  confused  and  puzzled.  Seeing  this,  I  hastened 
to  turn  the  current  of  his  reflections.  Stopping  abruptly 
in  my  mirth,  I  assumed  a  serious  gravity  of  demeanor,  and 
said : 

'•'  Nay,  nay  !  I  see  the  subject  is  too  sacred  to  be  jested  with 
— pardon  my  levity !  I  assure  you,  my  good  Ferrari,  I  will 
watch  over  the  lady  with  the  jealous  scrutiny  of  a  brother — an 
elderly  brother  too,  and  therefore  one  more  likely  to  be  a  model 
of  propriety.  Though  I  frankly  admit  it  is  a  task  I  am  not 
specially  fitted  for,  and  one  that  is  rather  distasteful  to  me, 
still,  I  would  do  much  to  please  you,  and  enable  you  to  leave 
Naples  with  an  easy  mind.  I  promise  you  " — here  I  took  his 
hand  and  shook  it  warmly—"  that  I  will  be  worthy  of  your 
trust  and  true  to  it,  with  exactly  the  same  fine  loyalty  and 
fidelity  you  yourself  so  nobly  showed  to  your  dead  friend 
Fabio !  History  cannot  furnish  me  with  a  better  ex- 
ample !  " 

He  started  as  if  he  had  been  stung,  and  every  drop  of 
blood  receded  from  his  face,  leaving  it  almost  livid.  He 
turned  his  eyes  in  a  kind  of  wondering  doubt  upon  me,  but 
I  counterfeited  an  air  of  such  good  faith  and  frankness,  that 
he  checked  some  hasty  utterance  that  rose  to  his  lips,  and 
mastering  himself  by  a  strong  effort,  said,  briefly  : 

"  I  thank  you  !     I  know  I  can  rely  upon  your  honor." 

"  You  can  !  "  I  answered,  decisively — "  as  positively  as 
you  rely  upon  your  own !  "  Again  he  winced,  as  though 
whipped  smartly  by  an  invisible  lash.  Releasing  his  hand,  I 
asked,  in  a  tone  of  affected  regret : 

"  And  when  must  you  leave  us,  carino  ?  " 

"  Most  unhappily,  at  once,"  he  answered.  "  I  start  by  the 
early  train  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  I  knew  of  this  in  time,"  I  said,  glancing 
at  my  writing-table,  which  was  strewn  with  unsent  invitation 
cards,  and  estimates  from  decorators  and  ball  furnishers.  "  I 
shall  not  think  of  starting  any  more  gayeties  till  you  return." 

He  looked  gratefully  at  me.  "  Really  ?  It  is  very  kind 
of  you,  but  I  should  be  sorry  to  interfere  with  any  of  your 
plans " 

"  Say  no  more  about  it,  amico  "  I  interrupted  him  lightly. 
"  Everything  can  wait  till  you  come  back.  Besides,  I  am 
10 


146  VENDETTA! 

sure  you  will  prefer  to  think  of  madama  as  living  in  some 
sort  of  seclusion  during  your  enforced  absence " 

"  I  should  not  like  her  to  be  dull !  "  he  eagerly  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  I  said,  with  a  slight  smile  at  his  folly,  as  if  she 
— Nina  ! — would  permit  herself  to  be  dull !  "  I  will  take 
care  of  that.  Little  distractions,  such  as  a  drive  now  and 
then,  or  a  very  quiet,  select  musical  evening !  I  understand 
— leave  it  all  to  me  !  But  the  dances,  dinners,  and  other 
diversions  shall  wait  till  your  return." 

A  delighted  look  flashed  into  his  eyes.  He  was  greatly 
flattered  and  pleased. 

"  You  are  uncommonly  good  to  me,  conte  !  "  he  said,  ear- 
nestly. "  I  can  never  thank  you  sufficiently." 

"  I  shall  demand  a  proof  of  your  gratitude  some  day,"  I 
answered.  "  And  now,  had  you  not  better  be  packing  your 
portmanteau  ?  To-morrow  will  soon  be  here.  I  will  come 
and  see  you  off  in  the  morning." 

Receiving  this  assurance  as  another  testimony  of  my  friend- 
ship, he  left  me.  I  saw  him  no  more  that  day  ;  it  was  easy 
to  guess  where  he  was  !  With  my  wife,  of  course  ! — no  doubt 
binding  her,  by  all  the  most  sacred  vows  he  could  think  of 
or  invent,  to  be  true  to  him — as  true  as  she  had  been  false 
to  me.  In  fancy  I  could  see  him  clasping  her  in  his  arms, 
and  kissing  her  many  times  in  his  passionate  fervor,  implor- 
ing her  to  think  of  him  faithfully,  night  and  day,  till  he 
should  again  return  to  the  joy  of  her  caresses  !  I  smiled 
coldly,  as  this  glowing  picture  came  before  my  imagination. 
Ay,  Guido !  kiss  her  and  fondle  her  now  to  your  heart's  con- 
tent— //  is  for  the  last  time  /  Never  again  will  that  witching 
glance  be  turned  to  you  in  either  fear  or  favor — never  again 
will  that  fair  body  nestle  in  your  jealous  embrace — never 
again  will  your  kisses  burn  on  that  curved  sweet  mouth ; 
never,  never  again  !  Your  day  is  done — the  last  brief  mo- 
ments of  your  sin's  enjoyment  have  come — make  the  most  of 
them  ! — no  one  shall  interfere  !  Drink  the  last  drop  of  sweet 
wine — my  hand  shall  not  dash  the  cup  from  your  lips  on  this, 
the  final  night  of  your  amour  !  Traitor,  liar,  and  hypocrite  ! 
make  haste  to  be  happy  for  the  short  time  that  yet  remains 
to  you — shut  the  door  close,  lest  the  pure  pale  stars  behold 
your  love  ecstasies  !  but  let  the  perfumed  lamps  shed  their 
softest  artificial  luster  on  all  that  radiant  beauty  which 
tempted  your  sensual  soul  to  ruin,  and  of  which  you  are  now 
permitted  to  take  your  last  look  !  Let  there  be  music  too — 
the  music  of  her  voice,  which  murmurs  in  your  ear  such  en* 


VENDETTA !  147 

trancing  falsehoods  !  "  She  will  be  true,"  she  says.  You 
must  believe  her,  Guido,  as  I  did — and,  believing  her  thus, 
part  from  her  as  lingeringly  and  tenderly  as  you  will — part 
from  her — forever  I 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

NEXT  morning  I  kept  my  appointment  and  met  Ferrari  at 
the  railway  station.  He  looked  pale  and  haggard,  though  he 
brightened  a  little  on  seeing  me.  He  was  curiously  irritable 
and  fussy  with  the  porters  concerning  his  luggage,  and 
argued  with  them  about  some  petty  trifles  as  obstinately  and 
pertinaciously  as  a  deaf  old  woman.  His  nerves  were  evi- 
dently jarred  and  unstrung,  and  it  was  a  relief  when  he  at 
last  got  into  his  coupe*.  He  carried  a  yellow  paper-covered 
volume  in  his  hand.  I  asked  him  if  it  contained  any  amus- 
ing reading. 

"  I  really  do  not  know,"  he  answered,  indifferently,  "  I 
have  only  just  bought  it.  It  is  by  Victor  Hugo." 

And  he  held  up  the  title-page  for  me  to  see. 

"Le  Dernier  Jour  d'un  Condamne,"  I  read  aloud  with 
careful  slowness.  "  Ah,  indeed  1  You  do  well  to  read  that. 
It  is  a  very  fine  study  !  " 

The  train  was  on  the  point  of  starting,  when  he  leaned  out 
of  the  carriage  window  and  beckoned  me  to  approach  more 
closely. 

"  Remember  !  "  he  whispered,  "  I  trust  you  to  take  care  of 
her  ! " 

"  Never  fear  !  "  I  answered,  "  I  will  do  my  best  to  replace 
you!" 

He  smiled  a  pale  uneasy  smile,  and  pressed  my  hand. 
These  were  our  last  words,  for  with  a  warning  shriek  the 
train  moved  off,  and  in  another  minute  had  rushed  out  of 
sight.  I  was  alone — alone  with  perfect  freedom  of  action — 
I  could  do  as  I  pleased  with  my  wife  now !  I  could  even 
kill  her  if  I  chose — no  one  would  interfere.  I  could  visit 
her  that  evening  and  declare  myself  to  her — could  accuse 
her  of  her  infidelity  and  stab  her  to  the  heart !  Any  Italian 
jury  would  find  "  extenuating  circumstances  "  for  me.  But 
why  ?  Why  should  I  lay  myself  open  to  a  charge  of  murder, 
even  for  a  just  cause  ?  No  1  my  original  design  was  perfect, 
and  I  must  keep  to  it  and  work  it  out  with  patience,  though 
patience  was  difficult.  While  I  thus  meditated,  walking  from 


148  VENDETTA! 

the  station  homeward,  I  was  startled  by  the  unexpected  ap- 
pearance of  my  valet,  who  came  upon  me  quite  suddenly. 
He  was  out  of  breath  with  running,  and  he  carried  a  note 
for  me  marked  "  Immediate."  It  was  from  my  wife,  and  ran 
briefly  thus : 

"  Please  come  at  once.     Stella  is  very  ill,  and  asks  for  you." 

"  Who  brought  this  ?  "  I  demanded,  quickening  my  pace, 
and  signing  to  Vincenzo  to  keep  beside  me. 

"  The  old  man,  eccellenza — Giacomo.  He  was  weeping 
and  in  great  trouble — he  said  the  little  donzella  had  the 
fever  in  her  throat — it  is  the  diphtheria  he  means,  I  think. 
She  was  taken  ill  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  but  the  nurse 
thought  it  was  nothing  serious.  This  morning  she  has  been 
getting  worse,  and  is  in  danger." 

"  A  doctor  has  been  sent  for,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Yes,  eccellenza.     So  Giacomo  said.     But " 

"  But  what  ?  "  I  asked,  quickly. 

"  Nothing,  eccellenza  !  Only  the  old  man  said  the  doctor 
had  come  too  late." 

My  heart  sunk  heavily,  and  a  sob  rose  in  my  throat.  I 
stopped  in  my  rapid  walk  and  bade  Vincenzo  call  a  carriage, 
one  of  the  ordinary  vehicles  that  are  everywhere  standing 
about  for  hire  in  the  principal  thoroughfares  of  Naples.  I 
sprung  into  this  and  told  the  driver  to  take  me  as  quickly  as 
possible  to  the  Villa  Romani,  and  adding  to  Vincenzo  that  I 
should  not  return  to  the  hotel  all  day,  I  was  soon  rattling 
along  the  uphill  road.  On  my  arrival  at  the  villa  I  found  the 
gates  open,  as  though  in  expectation  of  my  visit,  and  as  I 
approached  the  entrance  door  of  the  house,  Giacomo  himself 
met  me. 

"  How  is  the  child  ?  "  I  asked  him  eagerly. 

He  made  no  reply,  but  shook  his  head  gravely,  and  pointed 
to  a  kindly  looking  man  who  was  at  that  moment  descend- 
ing the  stairs — a  man  whom  I  instantly  recognized  as  a 
celebrated  English  doctor  resident  in  the  neighborhood.  To 
him  I  repeated  my  inquiry — he  beckoned  me  into  a  side 
room  and  closed  the  door. 

"  The  fact  is,"  he  said,  simply,  "  it  is  a  case  of  gross  neg- 
lect- The  child  has  evidently  been  in  a  weakly  condition 
for  some  time  past,  and  therefore  is  an  easy  prey  to  any 
disease  that  maybe  lurking  about.  She  was  naturally  strong 
— I  can  see  that — and  had  I  been  called  in  when  the  symp- 
toms first  developed  themselves,  I  could  have  cured  her. 


VENDETTA! 


'49 


The  nurse  tells  me  she  dared  not  enter  the  mother's  room 
to  disturb  her  after  midnight,  otherwise  she  would  have 
called  her  to  see  the  child — it  is  unfortunate,  for  now  I  can 
do  nothing." 

I  listened  like  one  in  a  dream.  Not  even  old  Assunta 
dared  to  enter  her  mistress's  room  after  midnight — no !  not 
though  the  child  might  be  seriously  ill  and  suffering.  I 
knew  the  reason  well — too  well !  And  so  while  Ferrari  had 
taken  his  fill  of  rapturous  embraces  and  lingering  farewells, 
my  little  one  had  been  allowed  to  struggle  in  pain  and  fever 
without  her  mother's  care  or  comfort.  Not  that  such  con- 
solation would  have  been  much  at  its  best,  but  I  was  fool 
enough  to  wish  there  had  been  this  one  faint  spark  of 
womanhood  left  in  her  upon  whom.  I  had  wasted  all  the  first 
and  only  love  of  my  life.  The  doctor  watched  me  as  I  re- 
mained silent,  and  after  a  pause  he  spoke  again. 

"  The  child  has  earnestly  asked  to  see  you,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  persuaded  the  countess  to  send  for  you,  though  she  was 
very  reluctant  to  do  so,  as  she  said  you  might  catch  the 
disease.  Of  course  there  is  always  a  risk " 

"  I  am  no  coward,  monsieur,"  I  interrupted  him,  "  though 
many  of  us  Italians  prove  but  miserable  panic-stricken 
wretches  in  time  of  plague — the  more  especially  when  com- 
pared with  the  intrepidity  and  pluck  of  Englishmen.  Still 
there  are  exceptions 

The  doctor  smiled  courteously  and  bowed.  "Then  I  have 
no  more  to  say,  except  that  it  would  be  well  for  you  to  see  my 
little  patient  at  once.  I  am  compelled  to  be  absent  for  half 
an  hour,  but  at  the  expiration  of  that  time  I  will  return." 

"  Stay  !  "  I  said,  laying  a  detaining  hand  on  his  arm.  "  Is 
there  any  hope  ?  " 

He  eyed  me  gravely.     "  I  fear  not." 

"  Can  nothing  be  done  ? " 

"  Nothing — except  to  keep  her  as  quiet  and  warm  as  possi- 
ble. I  have  left  some  medicine  with  the  nurse  which  will 
alleviate  the  pain.  I  shall  be  able  to  judge  of  her  better 
when  I  return  ;  the  illness  will  have  then  reached  its  crisis." 
In  a  couple  of  minutes  more  he  had  left  the  house,  and  a 
young  maid-servant  showed  me  to  the  nursery. 

"  Where  is  the  contessa  ? "  I  asked  in  a  whisper,  as  I 
trod  softly  up  the  stairs. 

"  The  contessa  ? "  said  the  girl,  opening  her  eyes  in  aston- 
ishment. "  In  her  own  bedroom,  eccellenza — maclama  would 
pot  think  of  Jeaving  it  •,  because  of  the  danger  of  infection." 


150  VENDETTA  I 

I  smothered  a  rough  oath  that  rose  involuntarily  to  my 
lips.  Another  proof  of  the  woman's  utter  heartlessness,  I 
thought ! 

"  Has  she  not  seen  her  child  ?  " 

"  Since  the  illness  ?     Oh,  no,  eccellenza  !" 

Very  gently  and  on  tiptoe  I  entered  the  nursery.  The 
blinds  were  partially  drawn  as  the  strong  light  worried  the 
child,  and  by  the  little  white  bed  sat  Assunta,  her  brown 
face  pale  and  almost  rigid  with  anxiety.  At  my  approach 
she  raised  her  eyes  to  mine,  muttering  softly : 

"  It  is  always  so.  Our  Lady  will  have  the  best  of  all,  first 
the  father,  then  the  child  ;  it  is  right  and  just — only  the  bad 
are  left." 

"  Papa ! "  moaned  a  little  voice  feebly,  and  Stella  sat 
up  among  her  tumbled  pillows,  with  wide-opened  wild  eyes, 
/everish  cheeks,  and  parted  lips  through  which  the  breath 
came  in  quick,  uneasy  gasps.  Shocked  at  the  marks  of 
intense  suffering  in  her  face,  I  put  my  arms  tenderly  round 
her — she  smiled  faintly  and  tried  to  kiss  me.  I  pressed  the 
poor  parched  little  mouth  and  murmured,  soothingly : 

"  Stella  must  be  patient  and  quiet — Stella  must  lie  down, 
the  pain  will  be  better  so ;  there  !  that  is  right !  "  as  the 
child  sunk  back  on  her  bed  obediently,  still  keeping  her 
gaze  fixed  upon  me.  I  knelt  at  the  bedside,  and  watched 
her  yearningly — while  Assunta  moistened  her  lips,  and  did 
all  she  could  to  ease  the  pain  endured  so  meekly  by  the 
poor  little  thing  whose  breathing  grew  quicker  and  fainter 
with  every  tick  of  the  clock.  "  You  are  my  papa,  are  you 
not  ?  "  she  asked,  a  deeper  flush  crossing  her  forehead  and 
cheeks.  I  made  no  answer — I  only  kissed  the  small  hot 
hand  I  held.  Assunta  shook  her  head. 

"  Ah,  poverinttta  !  The  time  is  near — she  sees  her  father. 
And  why  not  ?  He  loved  her  well — he  would  come  to  fetch 
her  for  certain  if  the  saints  would  let  him." 

And  sjie  fell  on  her  knees  and  began  to  tell  over  her 
rosary  with  great  devotion.  Meanwhile  Stella  threw  one 
little  arm  round  my  neck — her  eyes  were  half  shut — she 
spoke  and  breathed  with  increasing  difficulty. 

"  My  throat  aches  so,  papa !  "  she  said,  pitifully.  "  Can 
you  not  make  it  better  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  could,  my  darling  ! "  I  murmured.  "  I  would 
bear  all  the  pain  for  you  if  it  were  possible !  " 

She  was  silent  a  minute.     Then  she  said  : 

"  What  a  long  time  you  have  been  away  !     And  now  I  am 


VENDETTA!  151 

too  ill  to  play  with  you  !  "  Then  a  faint  smile  crossed  her 
features.  "  See  poor  To-to  ! "  she  exclaimed,  feebly,  as  her 
eyes  fell  on  a  battered  old  doll  in  the  spangled  dress  of  a 
carnival  clown  that  lay  at  the  foot  of  her  bed.  "  Poor  dear 
old  To-to!  He  will  think  I  do  not  love  him  any  more> 
because  my  throat  hurts  me.  Give  him  to  me,  papa  ! " 

And  as  I  obeyed  her  request  she  encircled  the  doll  with 
one  arm,  while  she  still  clung  to  me  with  the  other,  and 
added : 

"  To-to  remembers  you,  papa  ;  you  know  you  brought  him 
from  Rome,  and  he  is  fond  of  you,  too — but  not  as  fond  as  I 
am  ! "  And  her  dark  eyes  glittered  feverishly.  Suddenly 
her  glance  fell  on  Assunta,  whose  gray  head  was  buried  in 
her  hands  as  she  knelt. 

"  Assunta  !  " 

The  old  woman  looked  up. 

"  Bambinetta  !  "  she  answered,  and  her  aged  voice  trembled. 

"  Why  are  you  crying  ? "  inquired  Stella  with  an  air  of 
plaintive  surprise.  "  Are  you  not  glad  to  see  papa  ?  " 

Her  words  were  interrupted  by  a  sharp  spasm  of  pain 
which  convulsed  her  whole  body — she  gasped  for  breath — 
she  was  nearly  suffocated.  Assunta  and  I  raised  her  up 
gently  and  supported  her  against  her  pillows ;  the  agony 
passed  slowly,  but  left  her  little  face  white  and  rigid,  while 
large  drops  of  sweat  gathered  on  her  brow.  I  endeavored 
to  soothe  her. 

"  Darling,  you  must  not  talk,"  I  whispered,  imploringly;  "  try 
to  be  very  still — then  the  poor  throat  will  not  ache  so  much." 

She  looked  at  me  wistfully.  After  a  minute  or  two  she 
said,  gently  : 

"  Kiss  me,  then,  and  I  will  be  quite  good." 

I  kissed  her  fondly,  and  she  closed  her  eyes.  Ten,  twenty, 
thirty  minutes  passed  and  she  did  not  stir.  At  the  end  of 
that  time  the  doctor  entered.  He  glanced  at  her,  gave  me  a 
warning  look,  and  remained  standing  quietly  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed.  Suddenly  the  child  woke,  and  smiled  divinely  on 
all  three  of  us. 

"  Are  you  in  pain,  my  dear  ? "  I  softly  asked. 

"  No !  "  she  answered  in  a  tiny  voice,  so  faint  and  far 
away  that  we  held  our  breath  to  listen  to  it  ;  "I  am  quite 
well  now.  Assunta  must  dress  me  in  my  white  frock  again 
now  papa  is  here.  I  knew  he  would  come  back  !  " 

And  she  turned  her  eyes  upon  me  with  a  look  of  bright 
intelligence. 


152  VENDETTA! 

11  Her  brain  wanders,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  low,  pitying 
voice  ;  "  it  will  soon  be  over." 

Stella  did  not  hear  him;  she  turned  and  nestled  in  my 
arms,  asking  in  a  sort  of  babbling  whisper: 

"  You  did  not  go  away  because  I  was  naughty,  did  you, 
papa  ? " 

"  No  darling !  "  I  answered,  hiding  my  face  in  her  curls. 

"  Why  do  you  have  those  ugly  black  things  on  ? "  she 
asked,  in  the  feeblest  and  most  plaintive  tone  imaginable,  so 
weak  that  I  myself  could  scarcely  hear  it ;  "  has  somebody 
hurt  your  eyes  ?  Let  me  see  your  eyes !  "  I  hesitated. 
Dare  I  humor  her  in  her  fancy  ?  I  glanced  up.  The  doctor's 
head  again  was  turned  away,  Assunta  was  on  her  knees,  her 
face  buried  in  the  bed-clothes,  praying  to  her  saints  -,  quick 
as  thought  I  slipped  my  spectacles  slightly  down,  and  looked 
over  them  full  at  my  little  one.  She  uttered  a  soft  cry  of 
delight — "  Papa  !  papa  !  "  and  stretched  out  her  arms,  then 
a  strong  and  terrible  shudder  shook  her  little  frame.  The 
doctor  came  closer — I  replaced  my  glasses  without  my  action 
being  noticed,  and  we  both  bent  anxiously  over  the  suffering 
child.  Her  face  paled  and  grew  livid — she  made  another 
effort  to  speak — her  beautiful  eyes  rolled  upward  and  became 
fixed — she  sighed — and  sunk  back  on  my  shoulder — dying — 
dead  !  My  poor  little  one  !  A  hard  sob  stifled  itself  in  my 
throat — I  clasped  the  small  lifeless  body  close  in  my  embrace, 
and  my  tears  fell  hot  and  fast.  There  was  a  long  silence  in 
the  room — a  deep,  an  awe-struck,  reverent  silence,  while  the 
Angel  of  Death,  noiselessly  entering  and  departing,  gathered 
my  little  white  rose  for  his  Immortal  garden  of  flowers. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AFTER  some  little  time  the  doctor's  genial  voice,  slightly 
tremulous  from  kindly  emotion,  roused  me  from  my  grief- 
stricken  attitude. 

"  Monsieur,  permit  me  to  persuade  you  to  come  away. 
Poor  little  child  !  she  is  free  from  pain  now.  Her  fancy  that 
you  were  her  father  was  a  fortunate  delusion  for  her.  It 
made  her  last  moments  happy.  Pray  come  with  me — I  can 
see  this  has  been  a  shock  to  your  feelings." 

Reverently  I  laid  the  fragile  corpse  back  on  the  yet  warm 
pillows.  With  a  fond  touch  I  stroked  the  flaxen  head ;  X 


VENDETTA!  153 

closed  the  dark,  upturned,  and  glazing  eyes— I  kissed  the 
waxen  cheeks  and  lips,  and  folded  the  tiny  hands  in  an  atti- 
tude of  prayer.  There  was  a  grave  smile  on  the  young  dead 
face — a  smile  of  superior  wisdom  and  sweetness,  majestic 
in  its  simplicity.  Assunta  rose  from  her  knees  and  laid  her 
crucifix  on  the  little  breast — the  tears  were  running  down  her 
worn  and  withered  countenance.  As  she  strove  to  wipe  them 
away  with  her  apron,  she  said  tremblingly : — 

"  It  must  be  told  to  madama."  A  frown  came  on  the  doc- 
tor's face.  He  was  evidently  a  true  Britisher,  decisive  in  his 
opinions,  and  frank  enough  to  declare  them  openly.  "  Yes," 
he  said,  curtly,  "  Madama,  as  you  call  her,  should  have  been 
here." 

"  The  little  angel  did  not  once  ask  for  her,"  murmured 
Assunta. 

"  True  !  "  he  answered.  And  again  there  was  silence. 
We  stood  round  the  small  bed,  looking  at  the  empty  casket 
that  had  held  the  lost  jewel — the  flawless  pearl  of  innocent 
childhood  that  had  gone,  according  to  a  graceful  superstition, 
to  ornament  the  festal  robes  of  the  Madonna  as  she  walked 
in  all  her  majesty  through  heaven.  A  profound  grief  was  at 
my  heart — mingled  with  a  sense  of  mysterious  and  awful 
satisfaction.  I  felt,  not  as  though  I  had  lost  my  child,  but 
had  rather  gained  her  to  be  more  entirely  mine  than  ever. 
She  seemed  nearer  to  me  dead  than  she  had  been  when  liv- 
ing. Who  could  say  what  her  future  might  have  been  ?  She 
would  have  grown  to  womanhood — what  then  ?  What  is  the 
usual  fate  that  falls  to  even  the  best  woman  ?  Sorrow,  pain, 
and  petty  worry,  unsatisfied  longings,  incompleted  aims,  the 
disappointment  of  an  imperfect  and  fettered  life — for  say 
what  you  will  to  the  contrary,  woman's  inferiority  to  man,  her 
physical  weakness,  her  inability  to  accomplish  any  great  thing 
for  the  welfare  of  the  world  in  which  she  lives,  will  always 
make  her  more  or  less  an  object  of  pity.  If  good,  she  needs 
all  the  tenderness,  support,  and  chivalrous  guidance  of  her 
master,  man — if  bad,  she  merits  what  she  receives,  his  pitiless 
disdain  and  measureless  contempt.  From  all  dangers  and 
griefs  of  the  kind  my  Stella  had  escaped — for  her,  sorrow  no 
longer  existed.  I  was  glad  of  it,  I  thought,  as  I  watched 
Assunta  shutting  the  blinds  close,  as  a  signal  to  outsiders 
that  death  was  in  the  house.  At  a  sign  from  the  doctor  I 
followed  him  out  of  the  room — on  the  stairs  he  turned  round 
abruptly,  and  asked  : 

tell  the  countess?  " 


154  VENDETTA! 

"I  would  rather  be  excused,"  I  replied,  decisively.  "I 
am  not  at  all  in  the  humor  for  a  scene." 

"You  think  she  will  make  a  scene?  "he  said  with  an 
astonished  uplifting  of  his  eyebrows.  "  I  dare  say  you  are 
right  though  !  She  is  an  excellent  actress." 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,"  I  answered  evasively. 

"Oh,  very!  No  doubt  of  that!''  And  here  a  strange 
frown  contracted  the  doctor's  brow.  "  For  my  own  taste,  I 
prefer  an  ugly  woman  to  such  beauty." 

And  with  these  words  he  left  me,  disappearing  down  the 
passage  which  led  to  "  madama's  "'  boudoir.  Left  alone,  I 
paced  up  and  down  the  drawing-room,  gazing  abstractedly 
on  its  costly  fittings,  its  many  luxurious  knickknacks  and 
elegancies — most  of  which  I  had  given  to  my  wife  during 
the  first  few  months  of  our  marriage.  By  and  by  I  heard 
the  sound  of  violent  hysterical  sobbing,  accompanied  by  the 
noise  of  hurrying  footsteps  and  the  rapid  whisking  about  of 
female  garments.  In  a  few  moments  the  doctor  entered 
with  an  expression  of  sardonic  amusement  on  his  face. 
"Yes  !"  he  said  in  reply  to  my  look  of  inquiry,  "  hysterics, 
lace  handkerchiefs,  eau-de-Cologne,  and  attempts  at  fainting. 
All  very  well  done  !  I  have  assured  the  lady  there  is  no 
fear  of  contagion,  as  under  my  orders  everything  will  be 
thoroughly  disinfected.  I  shall  go  now.  Oh,  by  the  way, 
the  countess  requests  that  you  will  wait  here  a  few  minutes — 
she  has  a  message  for  you — she  will  not  detain  you  long.  1 
should  recommend  you  to  get  back  to  your  hotel  as  soon  as 
you  can,  and  take  some  good  wine.  A  rivederci  /  Anything 
I  can  do  for  you  pray  command  me  ! " 

And  with  a  cordial  shake  of  the  hand  he  left  me,  and  I 
heard  the  street  door  close  behind  him.  Again  I  paced 
wearily  up  and  down,  wrapped  in  sorrowful  musings.  I  did 
not  hear  a  stealthy  tread  on  the  carpet  behind  me,  so  that 
when  I  turned  round  abruptly,  I  was  startled  to  find  myself 
face  to  face  with  old  Giacomo,  who  held  out  a  note  to  me  on  a 
silver  salver,  and  who  meanwhile  peered  at  me  with  his  eager 
eyes  in  so  inquisitive  a  manner  that  I  felt  almost  uneasy. 

"  And  so  the  little  angel  is  dead!  "  he  murmured  in  a  thin, 
quavering  voice.  "  Dead  !  Ay,  that  is  a  pity,  a  pity  !  But 
my  master  is  not  dead — no,  no  !  I  am  not  such  an  old  fool 
as  to  believe  that." 

I  paid  no  heed  to  his  rambling  talk,  but  read  the  message 
Nina  had  sent  to  me  through  him. 


VENDETTA !  15$ 

"I  am  broken-hearted!"  so  ran  the  delicately  penciled 
lines.  "  Will  you  kindly  telegraph  my  dreadful  loss  to  Signer 
Ferrari  ?  I  shall  be  much  obliged  to  you."  I  looked  up 
from  the  perfumed  missive  and  down  at  the  old  butler's 
wrinkled  visage  ;  he  was  a  short  man  and  much  bent,  and 
something  in  the  downward  glance  I  gave  him  evidently 
caught  and  riveted  his  attention,  for  he  clasped  his  hands 
together  and  muttered  something  I  could  not  hear. 

"  Tell  your  mistress,''  I  said,  speaking  slowly  and  harshly, 
"  that  I  will  do  as  she  wishes.  That  I  am  entirely  at  her 
service.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  I  understand  !  "  faltered  Giacomo,  nervously. 
"  My  master  never  thought  me  foolish — I  could  always  under- 
stand him " 

"  Do  you  know,  my  friend,"  I  observed,  in  a  purposely 
cold  and  cutting  tone,  "  that  I  have  heard  somewhat  too 
much  about  your  master  ?  The  subject  is  tiresome  to  me  ! 
Were  your  master  alive,  he  would  say  you  were  in  your  dotage  ! 
Take  my  message  to  the  countess  at  once." 

The  old  man;s  face  paled  and  his  lips  quivered — he  made 
an  attempt  to  draw  up  his  shrunken  figure  with  a  sort  of 
dignity  as  he  answered  • 

"  Eccellenza,  my  master  would  never  speak  to  me  so — 
never,  never  !  "  Then  his  countenance  fell,  and  he  muttered, 
softly — "  Though  it  is  just — I  am  a  fool — I  am  mistaken — 
quite  mistaken — there  is  no  resemblance !  "  After  a  little 
pause  he  added,  humbly,  "  I  will  take  your  message,  eccel- 
lenza."  And  stooping  more  than  ever,  he  shambled  out  of 
the  room.  My  heart  smote  me  as  he  disappeared ;  I  had 
spoken  very  harshly  to  the  poor  old  fellow — but  I  instinctively 
felt  that  it  was  necessary  to  do  so.  His  close  and  ceaseless 
examination  of  me — his  timidity  when  he  approached  me — 
the  strange  tremors  he  experienced  when  I  addressed  him, 
were  so  many  warnings  to  me  to  be  on  my  guard  with  this 
devoted  domestic.  Were  he,  by  some  unforeseen  chance, 
to  recognize  me,  my  plans  would  all  be  spoiled.  I  took  my 
hat  and  left  the  house.  As  I  crossed  the  upper  terrace,  I 
saw  a  small  round  object  lying  in  the  grass — it  was  Stella's 
ball  that  she  used  to  throw  for  Wyvis  to  catch  and  bring  to 
her.  I  picked  up  the  poor  plaything  tenderly  and  put  it  in 
my  pocket — and  glancing  up  once  more  at  the  darkened 
nursery  windows,  I  waved  a  kiss  of  farewell  to  my  little  one 
lying  there  in  her  last  sleep.  Then  fiercely  controlling  all 
the  weaker  and  softer  emotions  that  threatened  to  overwhelm 


156  VENDETTA! 

me,  I  hurried  away.  On  my  road  to  the  hotel  I  stopped  at 
the  telegraph-office  and  dispatched  the  news  of  Stella's  death 
to  Guido  Ferrari  in  Rome.  He  would  be  surprised,  1  thought, 
but  certainly  not  grieved — the  poor  child  had  always  been 
in  his  way.  Would  he  come  back  to  Naples  to  console  the 
now  childless  widow?  Not  he  ! — he  would  know  well  that 
she  stood  in  very  small  need  of  consolation — and  that  she 
took  Stella's  death  as  she  had  taken  mine — as  a  blessing, 
and  not  a  bereavement.  On  reaching  my  own  rooms,  I  gave 
orders  to  Vincenzo  that  I  was  not  at  home  to  any  one  who 
might  call — and  I  passed  the  rest  of  the  day  in  absolute 
solitude.  I  had  much  to  think  of.  The  last  frail  tie  between 
my  wife  and  myself  had  been  snapped  asunder — the  child, 
the  one  innocent  link  in  the  long  chain  of  falsehood  and 
deception,  no  longer  existed.  Was  I  glad  or  sorry  for  this  ? 
I  asked  myself  the  question  a  hundred  times;  and  I  admitted 
the  truth,  though  I  trembled  to  realize  it.  I  was  glad — yes 
— glad  I  Glad  that  my  own  child  was  dead  !  You  call  this 
inhuman  perhaps  ?  Why  ?  She  was  bound  to  have  been 
miserable ;  she  was  now  happy  ! 

The  tragedy  of  her  parents'  lives  could  be  enacted  without 
imbittering  and  darkening  her  young  days  ;  she  was  out  of  it 
all,  and  I  rejoiced  to  know  it.  For  I  was  absolutely  relent- 
less ;  had  my  little  Stella  lived,  not  even  for  her  sake  would 
I  have  relaxed  in  one  detail  of  my  vengeance — nothing 
seemed  to  me  so  paramount  as  the  necessity  for  restoring 
my  own  self-respect  and  damaged  honor.  In  England  I 
know  these  things  are  managed  by  the  Divorce  Court. 
Lawyers  are  paid  exorbitant  fees,  and  the  names  of  the  guilty 
and  innocent  are  dragged  through  the  revolting  slums  of  the 
Jow  London  press.  It  may  be  an  excellent  method — but  it 
does  not  tend  to  elevate  a  man  in  his  own  eyes,  and  it  cer- 
tainly does  not  do  much  to  restore  his  lost  dignity.  It  has 
one  advantage — it  enables  the  criminal  parties  to  have  their 
way  without  further  interference — the  wronged  husband  is 
set  free — left  out  in  the  cold — and  laughed  at  by  those  who 
wronged  him.  An  admirable  arrangement  no  doubt — but 
one  that  would  not  suit  me.  Chacun  a  son  goiit  /  It  would 
be  curious  to  know  in  matters  of  this  kind  whether  divorced 
persons  are  really  satisfied  when  they  have  got  their  divorce 
— whether  the  amount  of  red  tape  and  parchment  expended 
in  their  interest  has  done  them  good  and  really  relieved  their 
feelings.  Whether,  for  instance,  the  betrayed  husband  is 
|lad  to  have  got  rid  of  his  unfaithful  wife  by  throwing  her 


VENDETTA!  157 

(with  the  full  authority  and  permission  of  the  law)  into  his 
rival's  arms  ?  I  almost  doubt  it !  I  heard  of  a  strange  case 
in  England  once.  A  man,  moving  in  good  society,  having 
more  than  suspicions  of  his  wife's  fidelity,  divorced  her — the 
law  pronounced  her  guilty.  Some  years  afterward,  he  being 
free,  met  her  again,  fell  in  love  with  her  for  the  second  time 
and  remarried  her.  She  was  (naturally !)  delighted  at  his 
making  such  a  fool  of  himself — for  henceforth,  whatever  she 
chose  to  do,  he  could  not  reasonably  complain  without  run- 
ning the  risk  of  being  laughed  at.  So  now  the  number  and 
variety  of  her  lovers  is  notorious  in  the  particular  social 
circle  where  she  moves — while  he,  poor  wretch,  is  perforce 
tongue-tied,  and  dare  not  consider  himself  wronged.  There 
is  no  more  pitiable  object  in  the  world  than  such  a  man — 
secretly  derided  and  jeered  at  by  his  fellows,  he  occupies 
an  almost  worse  position  than  that  of  a  galley  slave,  while  in 
his  own  esteem  he  has  sunk  so  low  that  he  dare  not,  even  in 
secret,  try  to  fathom  the  depth  to  which  he  has  fallen.  Some 
may  assert  that  to  be  divorced  is  a  social  stigma.  It  used  to 
be  so  perhaps,  but  society  has  grown  very  lenient  nowadays 
Divorced  women  hold  their  own  in  the  best  and  most  bril- 
liant circles,  and  what  is  strange  is  that  they  are  very  gener- 
ally petted  and  pitied. 

"  Poor  thing  !  "  says  society,  putting  up  its  eyeglass  to 
scan  admiringly  the  beautiful  heroine  of  the  latest  aristocratic 
scandal — "she  had  such  a  brute  of  a  husband  !  No  wonder 
she  liked  that  dear  Lord  So-and-So  !  Very  wrong  of  her,  of 
course,  bui  she  is  so  young  !  She  was  married  at  sixteen — 
quite  a  child  ! — could  not  have  known  her  own  mind  !  " 

The  husband  alluded  to  might  have  been  the  best  and 
most  chivalrous  of  men — anything  but  a  "  brute  " — yet  he 
always  figures  as  such  somehow,  and  gets  no  sympathy. 
And,'  by  the  way,  it  is  rather  a  notable  fact  that  all  the 
beautiful,  famous,  or  notorious  women  were  "  married  at 
sixteen"  How  is  this  managed  ?  I  can  account  for  it  in 
southern  climates,  where  girls  are  full-grown  at  sixteen  and 
old  at  thirty — but  I  cannot  understand  its  being  the  case  in 
England,  where  a  "  miss  "  of  sixteen  is  a  most  objectionable 
and  awkward  ingenue,  without  any  of  the  "  charms  wherewith 
to  charm,"  and  whose  conversation  is  always  vapid  and 
silly  to  the  point  of  absolute  exhaustion  on  the  part  of  those 
who  are  forced  to  listen  to  it.  These  sixteen-year-old  mar- 
riages are,  however,  the  only  explanation  frisky  English 
matrons  can  give  for  having  such  alaimingly  prolific  families 


158  VENDETTA! 

of  tall  sons  and  daughters,  and  it  is  a  happy  and  convenient 
excuse — one  that  provides  a  satisfactory  reason  for  the  exces- 
sive painting  of  their  faces  and  dyeing  of  their  hair.  Being 
young  (as  they  so  nobly  assert),  they  wish  to  look  even 
younger.  A  la  bonne  heure  f  If  men  cannot  see  through 
the  delicate  fiction,  they  have  only  themselves  to  blame.  As 
for  me,  I  believe  in  the  old,  old,  apparently  foolish  legend  of 
Adam  and  Eve's  sin  and  the  curse  which  followed  it — the 
curse  on  man  is  inevitably  carried  out  to  this  day.  God 
said  : 

"Because"  (mark  that  because!')  "  thou  hast  hearkened 
unto  the  voice  of  thy  wife  "  (or  thy  woman,  whoever  she  be), 
"  and  hast  eaten  of  the  tree  of  which  I  commanded  thee, 
saying,  Thou  shalt  not  eat  of  it "  (the  tree  or  fruit  being  the 
evil  suggested  first  to  man  by  woman),  "  cursed  is  the  ground 
for  thy  sake ;  in  sorrow  shalt  thou  eat  of  it  all  the  days  of 
thy  life  ! " 

True  enough  !  The  curse  is  upon  all  who  trust  woma» 
too  far — the  sorrow  upon  all  who  are  beguiled  by  her  witch- 
ing flatteries.  Of  what  avail  her  poor  excuse  in  the  ancient 
story — "  The  serpent  beguiled  me  and  I  did  eat !  "  Had  she 
never  listened  she  could  not  have  been  beguiled.  The 
weakness,  the  treachery,  was  in  herself,  and  is  there  still. 
Through  everything  the  bitterness  of  it  runs.  The  woman 
tempts — the  man  yields — and  the  gate  of  Eden — the  Eden 
of  a  clear  conscience  and  an  untrammeled  soul,  is  shut  upon 
them.  Forever  and  ever  the  Divine  denunciation  re-echoes 
like  muttering  thunder  through  the  clouds  of  passing  gener- 
ations; forever  and  ever  we  unconsciously  carry  it  out  in 
our  own  lives  to  its  full  extent  till  the  heart  grows  sick  and 
the  brain  weary,  and  we  long  for  the  end  of  it  all,  which  is 
death — death,  that  mysterious  silence  and  darkness  at  which 
we  sometimes  shudder,  wondering  vaguely — Can  it  be  worse 
than  life  ? 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MORE  than  ten  days  had  passed  since  Stella's  death.  Her 
mother  had  asked  me  to  see  to  the  arrangements  for  the 
child's  funeral,  declaring  herself  too  ill  to  attend  to  any- 
thing. I  was  glad  enough  to  accede  to  her  request,  for  I  was 
thus  able  to  avoid  the  Romani  vault  as  a  place  of  interment. 
J  could  not  bear  to  think  of  the  little  cherished  body  being 


VENDETTA  f  159 

laid  to  molder  in  that  terrific  place  where  I  had  endured 
such  frantic  horrors.  Therefore,  informing  all  whom  it  con- 
cerned that  I  acted  under  the  countess's  orders,  I  chose  a 
pretty  spot  in  the  open  ground  of  the  cemetery,  close  to  the 
tree  where  I  had  heard  the  nightingale  singing  in  my  hour 
of  supreme  misery  and  suffering.  Here  my  little  one  was 
laid  tenderly  to  rest  in  warm  mother-earth,  and  I  had  sweet 
violets  and  primroses  planted  thickly  all  about  the  place, 
while  on  the  simple  white  marble  cross  that  marked  the  spot 
I  had  the  words  engraved — 

"  Una  Stella  svanita,"  * 

adding  the  names  of  her  parents  and  the  date  of  her  birth 
and  death.  Since  all  this  had  been  done  I  had  visited 
my  wife  several  times,  She  was  always  at  home  to  me, 
though  of  course,  for  decency's  sake,  in  consequence  of  the 
child's  death,  she  denied  herself  to  everybody  else.  She 
looked  lovelier  than  ever ;  the  air  of  delicate  languor  she  as- 
sumed suited  her  as  perfectly  as  its  fragile  whiteness  suits 
a  hot-house  lily.  She  knew  the  power  of  her  own  beauty 
most  thoroughly,  and  employed  it  in  arduous  efforts  to  fasci- 
nate me.  But  I  had  changed  my  tactics  ;  I  paid  very  little 
heed  to  her,  and  never  went  to  see  her  unless  she  asked  me 
very  pressingly  to  do  so.  All  compliments  and  attentions 
from  me  to  her  had  ceased.  She  courted  me,  and  I  accepted 
her  courtship  in  unresponsive  silence.  I  played  the  part  ot 
a  taciturn  and  reserved  man,  who  preferred  reading  some 
ancient  and  abstruse  treatise  on  metaphysics  to  even  the 
charms  of  her  society — and  often,  when  she  urgently  desired 
my  company,  I  would  sit  in  her  drawing-room,  turning  over 
the  leaves  of  a  book  and  feigning  to  be  absorbed  in  it,  while 
she,  from  her  velvety~tf#&v///,  would  look  at  me  with  a  pretty 
pensiveness  made  up  half  of  respect,  half  of  gentle  admira- 
tion— a  capitally  acted  facial  expression,  by  the  bye,  and 
one  that  would  do  credit  to  Sarah  Bernhardt.  We  had  both 
heard  from  Guido  Ferrari ,-  his  letter  to  my  wife  I  of  course 
did  not  see ;  she  had,  however,  told  me  he  was  "  much 
shocked  and  distressed  to  hear  of  Stella's  death."  The 
epistle  he  addressed  to  me  had  a  different  tale  to  tell.  In  it 
he  wrote — "  You  can  understand,  my  dear  conte,  that  I  am 
not  much  grieved  to  hear  of  the  death  of  Fabio's  child.  Had 
she  lived,  I  confess  her  presence  would  have  been  a  per- 
petual reminder  to  me  of  things  I  prefer  to  forget.  She 

*  A  vanished  star. 


j6o  VENDETTA! 

never  liked  me — she  might  have  been  a  great  source  of 
trouble  and  inconvenience ;  so,  on  the  whole,  I  am  glad  she 
is  out  of  the  way." 

Further  on  in  the  letter  he  informed  me : 

"  My  uncle  is  at  death's  door,  but  though  that  door  stands 
wide  open  for  him,  he  cannot  make  up  his  mind  to  go  in. 
His  hesitation  will  not  be  allowed  to  last,  so  the  doctors  tell 
me — at  any  rate  I  fervently  hope  I  shall  not  be  kept  waiting 
too  long,  otherwise  I  shall  return  to  Naples  and  sacrifice  my 
heritage,  for  I  am  restless  and  unhappy  away  from  Nina, 
though  I  know  she  is  safely  guarded  by  your  protecting  care." 

I  read  this  particular  paragraph  to  my  wife,  watching  her 
closely  as  I  slowly  enunciated  the  words  contained  in  it. 
She  listened,  and  a  vivid  blush  crimsoned  her  cheeks — a 
blush  of  indignation — and  her  brows  contracted  in  the  vexed 
frown  I  knew  so  well.  Her  lips  parted  in  a  half-sweet,  half- 
chilly  smile  as  she  said,  quietly : 

"  I  owe  you  my  thanks,  conte,  for  showing  me  to  what  ex- 
tent Signer  Ferrari's  impertinence  may  reach.  I  am  sur- 
prised at  his  writing  to  you  in  such  a  manner !  The  fact  is, 
my  late  husband's  attachment  for  him  was  so  extreme  that  he 
now  presumes  upon  a  supposed  right  that  he  has  over  me — 
he  fancies  I  am  really  his  sister,  and  that  he  can  tyrannize,  as 
brothers  sometimes  do  !  I  really  regret  I  have  been  so  patient 
with  him — I  have  allowed  him  too  much  liberty." 

True  enough  !  I  thought  and  smiled  bitterly.  I  was  now 
in  the  heat  of  the  game — the  moves  must  be  played  quickly 
— there  was  no  more  time  for  hesitation  or  reflection. 

"  I  think,  madam,"  I  said,  deliberately,  as  I  folded  Guido's 
letter  and  replaced  it  in  my  pocket-book,  "  Signor  Ferrari 
ardently  aspires  to  be  something  more  than  a  brother  to  you 
at  no  very  distant  date." 

Oh,  the  splendid  hypocrisy  of  women  !  No  wonder  they 
make  such  excellent  puppets  on  the  theatrical  stage — acting 
is  their  natural  existence,  sham  their  breath  of  life  !  This 
creature  showed  no  sign  of  embarrassment — she  raised  her 
eyes  frankly  to  mine  in  apparent  surprise — then  she  gave  a 
little  low  laugh  of  disdain. 

"  Indeed  !  "  she  said.  "  Then  I  fear  Signor  Ferrari  is 
doomed  to  have  his  aspirations  disappointed  !  My  dear 
conte,"  and  here  she  rose  and  swept  softly  across  the  room 
toward  me  with  that  graceful  gliding  step  that  somehow 
always  reminded  me  of  the  approach  of  a  panther,  "  do  you 
really  mean  to  tell  me  that  his  audacity  has  reached  such  a 


VENDETTA  I  161 

height  that — really  it  is  too  absurd  ! — that  he  hopes  to  marry 
me  ?  "  And  sinking  into  a  chair  near  mine  she  looked  at  me 
in  calm  inquiry.  Lost  in  amazement  at  the  duplicity  of  the 
woman,  I  answered,  briefly  : 

"  I  believe  so  !     He  intimated  as  much  to  me." 

She  smiled  scornfully. 

"  I  am  too  much  honored  !  And  did  you,  conte,  think  for 
a  moment  that  such  an  arrangement  would  meet  with  my 
approval  ?  " 

I  was  silent.  My  brain  was  confused — I  found  it  difficult 
to  meet  with  and  confront  such  treachery  as  this.  What ! 
-Had  she  no  conscience?  Were  all  the  passionate  embraces, 
the  lingering  kisses,  the  vows  of  fidelity,  and  words  of  caress- 
ing endearment  as  naught  ?  Were  they  all  blotted  from  her 
memory  as  the  writing  on  a  slate  is  wiped  out  by  a  sponge  ! 
Almost  I  pitied  Guido !  His  fate,  in  her  hands,  was  evi- 
dently to  be  the  same  as  mine  had  been  ;  yet  after  all,  why 
should  I  be  surprised  ?  why  should  I  pity  ?  Had  I  not  cal- 
culated it  all  ?  and  was  it  not  part  of  my  vengeance  ? 

"  Tell  me  !  "  pursued  my  wife's  dulcet  voice,  breaking  in 
upon  my  reflections,  "  did  you  really  imagine  Signer  Ferrari's 
suit  might  meet  with  favor  at  my  hands  ?  " 

I  must  speak — the  comedy  had  to  be  played  out.  So  I 
answered,  bluntly : 

"  Madam,  I  certainly  did  think  so.  It  seemed  a  natural 
conclusion  to  draw  from  the  course  of  events.  He  is  young, 
undeniably  handsome,  and  on  his  uncle's  death  will  be  fairly 
wealthy — what  more  could  you  desire  ?  besides,  he  was  your 
husband's  friend " 

"  And  for  that  reason  I  would  never  marry  him  !  "  she  in- 
terrupted me  with  a  decided  gesture.  "  Even  if  I  liked  him 
sufficiently,  which  I  do  not"  (oh,  miserable  traitress),  "I 
would  not  run  the  risk  of  what  the  world  would  say  of  such 
a  marriage." 

"  How,  madam  ?  Pardon  me  if  I  fail  to  comprehend 
you." 

"  Do  you  not  see,  conte  ? "  she  went  on  in  a  coaxing  voice, 
as  of  one  that  begged  to  be  believed,  "  if  I  were  to  marry  one 
that  was  known  to  have  been  my  husband's  most  intimate 
friend,  society  is  so  wicked — people  would  be  sure  to  say 
that  there  had  been  something  between  us  before  my  hus- 
band's death — I  know  they  would,  and  I  could  not  endure 
such  slander  !  " 

"  Murder  will  out."  they  say  !     Here  was  guilt  partially  de* 


j6l  VENDETTA  I 

claring  itself.  A  perfectly  innocent  woman  could  not  foresee 
so  readily  the  condemnation  of  society.  Not  having  the 
knowledge  of  evil  she  would  be  unable  to  calculate  the  con- 
sequences. The  overprudish  woman  betrays  herself  ;  the  fine 
lady  who  virtuously  shudders  at  the  sight  of  a  nude  statue  or 
picture,  announces  at  once  to  all  whom  it  may  concern  that 
there  is  something  far  coarser  in  the  suggestions  cf  her  own 
mind  than  the  work  of  art  she  condemns.  Absolute  purity 
has  no  fear  of  social  slander;  it  knows  its  own  value,  and 
that  it  must  conquer  in  the  end.  My  wife — alas  !  that  I 
should  call  her  so — was  innately  vicious  and  false  ;  yet  how 
particular  she  was  in  her  efforts  to  secure  the  blind  world's 
good  opinion  !  Poor  old  world  !  how  exquisitely  it  is  fooled, 
and  how  good-naturedly  it  accepts  its  fooling !  But  I  had 
to  answer  the  fair  liar,  whose  net  of  graceful  deceptions  was 
now  spread  to  entrap  me ,  therefore  i  said  with  an  effort  of 
courtesy : 

"  No  one  would  dare  to  slander  you,  contessa,  in  my  pres- 
ence." She  bowed  and  smiled  prettily.  '*  But,"  I  went  on, 
"  if  it  is  true  that  you  have  no  liking  for  Signer  Ferrari — 

"  It  is  true  !  "  she  exclaimed  with  sudden  emphasis.  "  He 
is  rough  and  ill-mannered  ;  I  have  seen  him  the  worse  for 
wine ;  sometimes  he  is  insufferable  !  I  am  afraid  of  him  !  " 

I  glanced  at  her  quietly.  Her  face  had  paled,  and  her 
hands,  which  were  busied  with  some  silken  embroidery,  trem- 
bled a  little. 

*'  In  that  case,"  I  continued,  slowly,  "  though  I  am  sorry 
for  Ferrari,  poor  fellow !  he  will  be  immensely  disappointed  ! 
I  confess  I  am  glad  in  other  respects,  because " 

"Because  what?  "  she  demanded,  eagerly. 

"  Why,"  I  answered,  feigning  a  little  embarrassment,  "  be- 
cause there  will  be  more  chance  for  other  men  who  may  seek 
to  possess  the  hand  of  the  accomplished  and  beautiful  Con- 
tessa Romani." 

She  shook  her  fair  head  slightly.  A  transient  expression 
of  disappointment  passed  over  her  features. 

"  The  '  other  men'  you  speak  of,  conte,  are  not  likely  to 
indulge  in  such  an  ambition,"  she  said,  with  a  faint  sigh; 
"more  especially,"  and  her  eyes  flashed  indignantly,  "since 
Signer  Ferrari  thinks  it  his  duty  to  mount  guard  over  me.  I 
suppose  he-wishes  to  keep  me  for  himself — a  most  imperti- 
nent and  foolish  notion  !  There  is  only  one  thing  to  do— 
I  shall  leave  Naples  before  he  returns." 

"Why?"  I  asked. 


VENDETTA!  163 

She  flushed  deeply.  "  I  wish  to  avoid  him,"  she  said,  after 
a  little  pause  ;  "  I  tell  you  frankly,  he  has  lately  given  me 
much  cause  for  annoyance.  I  will  not  be  persecuted  by  his 
attentions  ;  and  as  I  before  said  to  you,  I  am  often  afraid  of 
him.  Under  your  protection  I  know  I  am  quite  safe,  but  I 
cannot  always  enjoy  that " 

The  moment  had  come.     I  advanced  a  step  or  two. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  I  said.     "  It  rests  entirely  with  yourself." 

She  started  and  half  rose  from  her  chair — her  work 
dropped  from  her  hands. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  conte  ?  "  she  faltered,  half  timidly, 
yet  anxiously ;  "  I  do  not  understand  !  " 

"  I  mean  what  I  say,"  I  continued  in  cool  hard  tones,  and 
stooping,  I  picked  up  her  work  and  restored  it  to  her  ;  "  but 
pray  do  not  excite  yourself !  You  say  you  cannot  always 
enjoy  my  protection  ;  it  seems  to  me  that  you  can — by  be- 
coming my  wife." 

"  Conte  !  "  she  stammered.  I  held  up  my  hand  as  a  sign 
to  her  to  be  silent. 

"  I  am  perfectly  aware,"  I  went  on  in  business-like  accents 
— "  of  the  disparity  in  years  that  exists  between  us.  I  have 
neither  youth,  health,  or  good  looks  to  recommend  me  to  you. 
Trouble  and  bitter  disappointment  have  made  me  what  I  am. 
But  I  have  wealth  which  is  almost  inexhaustible — I  have 
position  and  influence — and  beside  these  things  " — and  here 
I  looked  at  her  steadily,  "  I  have  an  ardent  desire  to  do 
justice  to  your  admirable  qualities,  and  to  give  you  all  you 
deserve.  If  you  think  you  could  be  happy  with  me,  speak 
frankly — I  cannot  offer  you  the  passionate  adoration  of  a 
young  man — my  blood  is  cold  and  my  pulse  is  slow — but 
what  I  can  do,  I  will !  " 

Having  spoken  thus,  I  was  silent — gazing  at  her  intently. 
She  paled  and  flushed  alternately,  and  seemed  for  a  moment 
lost  in  thought — then  a  sudden  smile  of  triumph  curved  her 
mouth — she  raised  her  large  lovely  eyes  to  mine,  with  a  look 
of  melting  and  wistful  tenderness.  She  laid  her  needle-work 
gently  down,  and  came  close  up  to  me — her  fragrant  breath 
fell  warm  on  my  cheek — her  strange  gaze  fascinated  me,  and 
a  sort  of  tremor  shook  my  nerves. 

"You  mean,"  she  said,  with  a  tender  pathos  in  her  voice 
— "  that  you  are  willing  to  marry  me,  but  that  you  do  not 
really  love  me  ?  " 

And  almost  appealingly  she  laid  her  white  hand  on  my 
shoulder — her  musical  accents  were  low  and  thrilling — she 


1 64  VE  tf&  ETTA! 

sighed  faintly.  I  was  silent — battling  violently  with  the  fool- 
ish desire  that  had  sprung  up  within  me,  the  desire  to  draw 
this  witching  fragile  thing  to  my  heart,  to  cover  her  lips  with 
kisses — to  startle  her  with  the  passion  of  my  embraces !  But 
I  forced  the  mad  impulse  down  and  stood  mute.  She 
watched  me — slowly  she  lifted  her  hand  from  where  it  had 
rested,  and  passed  it  with  a  caressing  touch  through  my  hair. 

"  No — you  do  not  really  love  me,"  she  whispered — "  but  I 
will  tell  you  the  truth — / love  you  / 

"  And  she  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height  and  smiled 
again  as  she  uttered  the  lie.  I  knew  it  was  a  lie — but  I 
seized  the  hand  whose  caresses  stung  me,  and  held  it  hard, 
as  I  answered  : 

"  You  love  me?  No,  no — I  cannot  believe  it — it  is  impos- 
sible !  " 

She  laughed  softly.  "  It  is  true  though,"  she  said,  em- 
phatically, "  the  very  first  time  I  saw  you  I  knew  I  should 
love  you  !  I  never  even  liked  my  husband,  and  though  in 
some  things  you  resemble  him,  you  are  quite  different  in  others 
— and  superior  to  him  in  every  way.  Believe  it  or  not  as  you 
like,  you  are  the  only  man  in  all  the  world  I  have  ever  loved  /" 

And  she  made  the  assertion  unblushingly,  with  an  air  of 
conscious  pride  and  virtue.  Half  stupefied  at  her  manner, 
I  asked  : 

"  Then  you  will  be  my  wife  ? " 

"  I  will !  "  she  answered — "  and  tell  me — your  name  is 
Cesare,  is  it  not?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  mechanically. 

"  Then,  Cesare"  she  murmured,  tenderly,  "  I  will  make  you 
love  me  very  much  !  " 

And  with  a  quick  lithe  movement  of  her  supple  figure,  she 
nestled  softly  against  me,  and  turned  up  her  radiant  glowing 
face. 

"  Kiss  me  !  "  she  said,  and  waited.  As  one  in  a  whirling 
dream,  I  stooped  and  kissed  those  false  sweet  lips  !  I  would 
have  more  readily  placed  my  mouth  upon  that  of  a  poison- 
ous serpent !  Yet  that  kiss  roused  a  sort  of  fury  in  me.  I 
slipped  my  arms  round  her  half-reclining  figure,  drew  her 
gently  backward  to  the  couch  she  had  left,  and  sat  down  be- 
side her,  still  embracing  her.  "  You  really  love  me  ?  "  I  asked 
almost  fiercely. 

"  Yes  !  " 

"  And  I  am  the  first  man  whom  you  have  really  cared  for  ?  " 

"You  are!" 


VENDETTA!  165 

11  You  never  liked  Ferrari  ?  " 

"  Never !  " 

"  Did  he  ever  kiss  you  as  I  have  done  ? " 

"  Not  once  !  " 

God  !  how  the  lies  poured  forth  !  a  very  cascade  of. them! 
and  they  were  all  told  with  such  an  air  of  truth  !  I  marveled 
at  the  ease  and  rapidity  with  which  they  glided  off  this  fair 
woman's  tongue,  feeling  somewhat  the  same  sense  of  stupid 
astonishment  a  rustic  exhibits  when  he  sees  for  the  first  time 
a  conjurer  drawing  yards  and  yards  of  many-colored  ribbon 
out  or  his  mouth.  1  took  up  the  little  hand  on  which  the 
wedding-ring  /had  placed  there  was  still  worn,  and  quietly 
slipped  upon  the  slim  finger  a  circlet  of  magnificent  rose- 
brilliants.  I  had  long  carried  this  trinket  about  with  me  in 
expectation  of  the  moment  that  had  now  come.  She  started 
from  my  arms  with  an  exclamation  of  delight. 

"  Oh,  Cesare  !  how  lovely  !     How  good  you  are  to  me  !  " 

And  leaning  toward  me,  she  kissed  me,  then  resting  against 
my  shoulder,  she  held  up  her  hand  to  admire  the  flash  of  the 
diamonds  in  the  light.  Suddenly  she  said,  with  some  anxiety 
in  her  totie: 

"  You  will  not  tell  Guido  ?  not  yet  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  answered  ;  "  I  certainly  will  not  tell  him  till  he 
returns.  Otherwise  he  would  leave  Rome  at  once,  and  we 
do  not  want  him  back  just  immediately,  do  we?"  And  I 
toyed  with  her  rippling  gold  tresses  half  mechanically,  while 
I  wondered  within  myself  at  the  rapid  success  of  my 
scheme.  She,  in  the  meantime  grew  pensive  and  abstracted, 
and  for  a  few  moments  we  were  both  silent.  If  she  had 
known  !  1  thought,  if  she  could  have  imagined  that  she  was 
encircled  by  the  arm  of  her  own  husbar  d,  the  man  whom  she 
had  duped  and  wronged,  the  poor  fool  she  had  mocked  at 
and  despised,  whose  life  had  been  an  obstruction  in  her  path, 
whose  death  she  had  been  glad  of  !  Would  she  have  smiled 
so  sweetly  ?  Would  she  have  kissed  me  then  ? 

*  *  *  #  *  #  # 

She  remained  leaning  against  me  in  a  resposeful  attitude 
for  some  moments,  ever  and  anon  turning  the  ring  I  had 
given  her  round  and  round  upon  her  finger.  By  and  by  she 
looked  up. 

"  Will  you  do  me  on-e  favor  ?  "  she  asked,  coaxingly  ;  "  such 
a  little  thing — a  tride  !  but  it  would  give  me  such  pleasure  !  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  asked  ;  "  it  is  you  to  command  and  I 
to  obey  1 " 


1 66  VENDETTA! 

"  Well,  to  take  off  those  dark  glasses  just  for  a  minute  !  I 
want  to  see  your  eyes." 

I  rose  from  the  sofa  quickly,  and  answered  her  with  some 
coldness. 

"  Ask  anything  you  like  but  that,  mia  bclla.  The  least 
light  on  my  eyes  gives  me  the  most  acute  pain — pain  that  irri- 
tates my  nerves  for  hours  afterward.  Be  satisfied  with  me 
as  I  am  for  the  present,  though  I  promise  you  your  wish  shall 
be  gratified " 

"  When  ?  "  she  interrupted  me  eagerly.  I  stooped  and 
kissed  her  hand. 

"  On  the  evening  of  our  marriage  day,"  1  answered. 

She  blushed  and  turned  away  her  head  coquettishly. 

"  Ah  !  that  is  so  long  to  wait !  "  she  said,  half  pettishly. 

"  Not  very  long,  I  hope"  I  observed,  with  meaning  empha- 
sis. "  We  are  now  in  November.  May  I  ask  you  to  make 
my  suspense  brief  ?  to  allow  me  to  fix  our  wedding  for  the 
second  month  of  the  new  year  ? " 

"  But  my  recent  widowhood  ! — Stella's  death  !  " — she  ob- 
jected faintly,  pressing  a  perfumed  handkerchief  gently  to 
her  eyes. 

"  In  February  your  husband  will  have  been  dead  nearly 
six  months,"  I  said,  decisively  ;  <;  it  is  quite  a  sufficient  period 
of  mourning  for  one  so  young  as  yourself.  And  the  loss  of 
your  child  so  increases  the  loneliness  of  your  situation,  that 
it  is  natural,  even  necessary,  that  you  should  secure  a  pro- 
tector as  soon  as  possible.  Society  will  not  censure  you,  you 
may  be  sure — besides,  /shall  know  how  to  silence  any  gossip 
that  savors  of  impertinence." 

A  smile  of  conscious  triumph  parted  her  lips. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,"  she  said,  demurely ;  "  if  you, 
who  are  known  in  Naples  as  one  who  is  perfectly  indifferent 
to  women  like  now  to  fisrure  as  an  impatient  lover.  I  shall  not 
object !  " 

And  she  gave  me  a  quick  glance  of  mischievous  amu^ 
ment  from  under  the  languid  lids  of  her  dreamy  dark  eyes. 
I  saw  it,  but  answered,  stiffly  : 

"You  are  aware,  contessa,  and  /am  also  aware  that  I  am 
not  a  '  lover '  according  to  the  accepted  type,  but  that  I  am 
impatient  I  readily  admit." 

"And  why?"  she  asked. 

"  Because,"  I  replied,  speaking  slowly  and  emphatically ; 
"  I  desire  you  to  be  mine  and  mine  only,  to  have  you  ab- 
solutely in  my  possession,  ap4  to  £e.el  that  no  one.  can 


VENDETTA !  167 

come  between  us,  or  interfere  with  my  wishes  concerning 
you." 

She  laughed  gayly.  "  A  la  bonne  heure  !  You  are  a  lover 
without  knowing  it  !  Your  dignity  will  not  allow  you  to  be- 
lieve that  you  are  actually  in  love  with  me,  but  in  spite  of 
yourself  you  are — you  know  you  are  !  " 

I  'stood  before  her  in  almost  somber  silence.  At  last  I 
said  :  "  If  you  say  so,  contessa,  then  it  must  be  so.  I  have 
had  no  experience  in  affairs  of  the  heart,  as  they  are  called, 
and  I  find  it  difficult  to  give  a  name  to  the  feelings  which 
possess  me  ;  I  am  only  conscious  of  a  very  strong  wish  to  be- 
come the  absolute  master  of  your  destiny."  And  involunta- 
rily I  clinched  my  hand  as  I  spoke.  She  did  not  observe  the 
action,  but  she  answered  the  words  with  a  graceful  bend  of 
the  head  and  a  smile. 

"  L  could  not  have  a  better  fortune,"  she  said,  "  for  I  am 
sure  my  destiny  will  be  all  brightness  and  beauty  with  you  to 
control  and  guide  it  !  " 

"  It  will  be  what  you  desire,"  I  half  muttered ;  then  with 
an  abrupt  change  of  manner  I  said  :  "  I  will  wish  you  good- 
night, contessa.  It  grows  late,  and  my  state  of  health  com- 
pels me  to  retire  to  rest  early." 

She  rose  from  her  seat  and  gave  me  a  compassionate 
look. 

"  You  are  really  a  great  sufferer  then  ?  "  she  inquired  ten- 
derly. "  I  am  sorry  !  But  perhaps  careful  nursing  will  quite 
restore  you.  I  shall  be  so  proud  if  I  can  help  you  to  secure 
better  health." 

"  Rest  and  happiness  will  no  doubt  do  much  for  me,"  I  an- 
swered, "  still  I  warn  you,  cara  mia,  that  in  accepting  me  as 
your  husband  you  take  a  broken-down  man,  one  whose  whims 
are  legion  and  whose  chronic  state  of  invalidism  may  in  time 
prove  to  be  a  burden  on  your  young  life.  Are  you  sure  your 
decision  is  a  wise  one  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure  !  "  she  replied  firmly.  "  Do  I  not  love  you  J 
And  you  will  not  always  be  ailing — you  look  so  strong." 

"  I  am  strong  to  a  certain  extent,"  I  said,  unconsciously 
straightening  myself  as  I  stood.  "  I  have  plenty  of  muscle 
as  far  as  that  goes,  but  my  nervous  system  is  completely 
disorganized.  I — why,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Are  you  ill  ?  " 

For  she  had  turned  deathly  pale,  and  her  eyes  look  startled 
and  terrified.  Thinking  she  would  faint,  I  extended  my 
arms  to  save  her  from  falling,  but  she  put  them  a?id.e  with 
an  alarmed  yet  appealing  gesture 


j66  VENDETTA! 

"  It  is  nothing,"  she  murmured  feebly,  "  a  sudden  giddi 
ness — I  thought — no  matter  what !  Tell  me,  are  you  not 
related  to  the  Romani  family?  When  you  drew  yourself  up 
just  now  you  were  so  like — like  Fabio  I  I  fancied,"  and  she 
shuddered,  "  that  I  saw  his  ghost !  " 

I  supported  her  to  a  chair  near  the  window,  which  I  threw 
open  for  air,  though  the  evening  was  cold. 

"  You  are  fatigued  and  overexcited,"  I  said  calmly,  "  your 
nature  is  too  imaginative.  No  ;  I  am  not  related  to  the  Ro- 
manis,  though  possibly  I  may  have  some  of  their  manner- 
isms. Many  men  are  alike  in  these  things.  But  you  must 
not  give  way  to  such  fancies.  Rest  perfectly  quiet,  you  will 
soon  recover." 

And  pouring  out  a  glass  of  water  I  handed  it  to  her.  She 
sipped  it  slowly,  leaning  back  in  the  fauteuil  where  I  had 
placed  her,  and  in  silence  we  both  looked  out  on  the  Novem- 
beY  night.  There  was  a  moon,  but  she  was  veiled  by  driving 
clouds,  which  ever  and  anon  swept  asunder  to  show  her 
gleaming  pallidly  white,  like  the  restless  spirit  of  a  deceived 
and  murdered  lady.  A  rising  wind  moaned  dismally  among 
the  fading  creepers  and  rustled  the  heavy  branches  of  a  giant 
cypress  that  stood  on  the  lawn  like  a  huge  spectral  mourner 
draped  in  black,  apparently  waiting  fora  forest  funeral.  Now 
and  then  a  few  big  drops  of  rain  fell — sudden  tears  wrung  as 
though  by  force  from  the  black  heart  of  the  sky.  My  wife 
shivered. 

"  Shut  the  window  !  "  she  said,  glancing  back  at  me  where 
I  stood  behind  her  chair.  "  I  am  much  better  now.  I  was 
very  silly.  I  do  not  know  what  came  over  me,  but  for  the 
moment  I  -felt  afraid — horribly  afraid  ! — of  you  /  " 

"  That  was  not  complimentary  to  your  future  husband,"  I 
remarked,  quietly,  as  I  closed  and  fastened  the  window  in 
obedience  to  her  request.  "  Should  I  not  insist  upon  an 
apology  ? " 

She  laughed  nervously,  and  played  with  her  ring  of  rose 
brilliants. 

"  It  is  not  yet  too  late,"  I  resumed,  "  if  on  second  thoughts 
you  would  rather  not  marry  me,  you  have  only  to  say  so.  I 
shall  accept  my  fate  with 'equanimity,  and  shall  not  blame 
you." 

At  this  she  seemed  quite  alarmed,  and  rising,  laid  her  hand 
pleadingly  on  my  arm. 

"  Surely  you  are  not  offended  ?  "  she  said.  "  I  was  not 
really  afraid  of  you,  you  know — it  was  a  stupid  fancy — I  can- 


VENDETTA!  169 

not  explain  it.  But  I  am  quite  well  now,  and  I  am  only  too 
happy.  Why,  I  would  not  lose  your  love  for  all  the  world — 
you  must  believe  me  !  " 

And  she  touched  my  hand  caressingly  with  her  lips.  I 
withdrew  it  gently,  and  stroked  her  hair  with  an  almost 
parental  tenderness  ;  then  I  said  quietly  : 

"  If  so,  we  are  agreed,  and  all  is  well.  Let  me  advise  you 
to  take  a  long  night's  rest ;  your  nerves  are  weak  and  some- 
what shaken.  You  wish  me  to  keep  our  engagement 
secret  ?  " 

She  thought  for  a  moment,  then  answered  musingly  : 

"  For  the  present  perhaps  it  would  be  best.  Though," 
and  she  laughed,  "  it  would  be  delightful  to  see  all  the  other 
women  jealous  and  envious  of  my  good  fortune !  Still,  if 
the  news  were  told  to  any  of  our  friends — who  knows  ? — it 
might  accidentally  reach  Guido,  and " 

"  I  understand !  You  may  rely  upon  my  discretion. 
Good-night,  contessa  ! " 

"  You  may  call  me  Nina,"  she  murmured,  softly. 

"  Nina,  then,"  I  said,  with  some  effort,  as  I  lightly  kissed 
her.  "  Good-night ! — may  your  dreams  be  of  me  !  "  She 
responded  to  this  with  a  gratified  smile,  and  as  I  left  the 
room  she  waved  her  hand  in  a  parting  salute.  My  diamonds 
flashed  on  it  like  a  small  circlet  of  fire  ;  the  light  shed  through 
the  rose-colored  lamps  that  hung  from  the  painted  ceiling 
fell  full  on  her  exquisite  loveliness,  softening  it  into  ethereal 
radiance  and  delicacy,  and  when  I  strode  forth  from  the 
house  into  the  night  air  heavy  with  the  threatening  gloom  of 
coming  tempest,  the  picture  of  that  fair  face  and  form  flitted 
before  me  like  a  mirage — the  glitter  of  her  hair  flashed  on 
my  vision  like  little  snakes  of  fire — her  lithe  hands  seemed 
to  beckon  me — her  lips  had  left  a  scorching  heat  on  mine. 
Distracted  with  the  thoughts  that  tortured  me,  I  walked  on 
and  on  for  hours.  The  storm  broke  at  last ;  the  rain  poured 
in  torrents,  but  heedless  of  wind  and  weather,  I  wandered  on 
like  a  forsaken  fugitive.  I  seemed  to  be  the  only  human 
being  left  alive  in  a  world  of  wrath  and  darkness.  The  rush 
and  roar  of  the  blast,  the  angry  noise  of  waves  breaking 
hurriedly  on  the  shore,  the  swirling  showers  that  fell  on  my 
defenseless  head — all  these  things  were  unfelt,  unheard  by 
me.  There  are  times  in  a  m?.n's.  life  when  mere  physical 
feeling  grows  numb  under  the  pressure  of  intense  mental 
agony — when  the  indignant  soul,  smarting  with  the  expert 
ence  of  some  vile  injustice,  forgets  for  a  little  itsjiarrow  and 


1 70  VENDETTA! 

poor  house  of  clay.  Some  such  mood  was  upon  me  then,  I 
suppose,  for  in  the  very  act  of  walking  I  was  almost  uncon- 
scious of  movement.  An  awful  solitude  seemed  to  encom- 
pass me — a  silence  of  my  own  creating.  I  fancied  that  even 
the  angry  elements  avoided  me  as  I  passed  ;  that  there  was 
nothing,  nothing  in  all  the  wide  universe  but  myself  and  a 
dark  brooding  horror  called  Vengeance.  All  suddenly,  the 
mists  of  my  mind  cleared  ;  I  moved  no  longer  in  a  deaf, 
blind  stupor.  A  flash  of  lightning  danced  vividly  before  my 
eyes,  followed  by  a  crashing  peal  of  thunder ,  I  saw  to  what 
end  of  a  wild  journey  I  had  come !  Those  heavy  gates—- 
that undefined  stretch  of  land — those  ghostly  glimmers  of 
motionless  white  like  spectral  mile-stones  emerging  from  the 
gloom — I  knew  it  all  too  well — it  was  the  cemetery  !  I  looked 
through  the  iron  palisades  with  the  feverish  interest  of  one 
who  watches  the  stage  curtain  rise  on  the  last  scene  of  a 
tragedy.  The  lightning  sprung  once  more  across  the  sky, 
and  showed  me  for  a  brief  second  the  distant  marble  outline 
of  the  Romani  vault.  There  the  drama  began — where  would 
it  end?  Slowly,  slowly  there  flitted  into  my  thoughts  the 
face  of  my  lost  child — the  young,  serious  face  as  it  had 
looked  when  the  calm,  preternaturally  wise  smile  of  Death 
had  rested  upon  it ;  and  then  a  curious  feeling  of  pity  pos- 
sessed me — pity  that  her  little  body  should  be  lying  stiffly 
out  there,  not  in  the  vault,  but  under  the  wet  sod,  in  such  a 
relentless  storm  of  rain.  I  wanted  to  take  her  up  from  that 
cold  couch — to  carry  her  to  some  home  where  there  should 
be  light  and  heat  and  laughter — to  warm  her  to  life  again 
within  my  arms ;  and  as  my  brain  played  with  these  foolish 
fancies,  slow  hot  tears  forced  themselves  into  my  eyes  and 
scalded  my  cheeks  as  they  fell.  These  tears  relieved  me — 
gradually  the  tightly  strung  tension  of  my  nerves  relaxed, 
and  I  recovered  my  usual  composure  by  degrees.  Turning 
deliberately  away  from  the  beckoning  grave-stones,  I  walked 
back  to  the  city  through  the  thick  of  the  storm,  this  time 
with  an  assured  step  and  a  knowledge  of  where  I  was  going. 
I  did  not  reach  my  hotel  till  past  midnight ,  but  this  was  not 
late  for  Naples,  and  the  curiosity  of  the  fat  French  hall- 
porter  was  not  so  much  excited  by  the  lateness  of  my  arrival 
as  by  the  disorder  of  my  apparel. 

'"Ah,  Heaven!"  he  cried;  "that  monsieur  the  distin- 
guished r^uld  have  been  in  such  a  storm  all  unprotected  ! 
\Vhy  did  not  nnnsieur  send  for  his  carriage  ?  "  I  cut  short 
his  ex,clamatiQns  by  dropping  five  francs  into  his  ever-ready 


VENDETTA! 


171 


hand,  assuring  him  that  I  had  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  nov- 
elty of  a  walk  in  bad  weather,  whereat  he  smiled  and  con- 
gratulated me  as  much  as  he  had  just  commiserated  me.  On 
reaching  my  own  rooms,  my  valet  Vincenzo  stared  at  my 
dripping  and  disheveled  condition,  but  was  discreetly  mute. 
He  quickly  assisted  me  to  change  my  wet  clothes  for  a  warm 
dressing-gown,  and  then  brought  a  glass  of  mulled  port  wine, 
but  performed  these  duties  with  such  an  air  of  unbroken 
gravity  that  I  was  inwardly  amused  while  I  admired  the  fel- 
low's reticence.  When  I  was  about  to  retire  for  the  night  I 
tossed  him  a  napoleon.  He  eyed  it  musingly  and  inquir- 
ingly ;  then  he  asked  : 

"  Your  excellency  desires  to  purchase  something  ? " 
"  Your  silence,  my  friend,  that  is  all ! "'  I  replied,  with  a 
laugh.  "  Understand  me,  Vincenzo,  you  will  serve  yourself 
and  me  best  by  obeying  implicitly,  and  asking  no  questions. 
Fortunate  is  the  servant  who,  accustomed  to  see  his  master 
drunk  every  night,  swears  to  all  outsiders  that  he  has  never 
served  so  sober  and  discreet  a  gentleman  !  That  is  your 
character,  Vincenzo — keep  to  it,  and  we  shall  not  quarrel." 
He  smiled  gravely,  and  pocketed  my  piece  of  gold  without  a 
word — like  a  true  Tuscan  as  he  was.  The  sentimental  serv- 
ant, whose  fine  feelings  will  not  allow  him  to  accept  an  ex- 
tra "  tip,"  is,  you  may  be  sure,  a  humbug.  I  never  believed 
in  such  a  one.  Labor  can  always  command  its  price,  and 
what  so  laborious  in  this  age  as  to  be  honest  ?  What  so  diffi- 
cult as  to  keep  silence  on  other  people's  affairs  ?  Such  her- 
culean tasks  deserve  payment !  A  valet  who  is  generously 
bribed,  in  addition  to  his  wages,  can  be  relied  on  ;  if  under- 
paid, all  heaven  and  earth  will  not  persuade  him  to  hold  his 
tongue.  Left  alone  at  last  in  my  sleeping  chamber,  I  re- 
mained for  some  time  before  actually  going  to  bed.  -I  took 
off  the  black  spectacles  which  served  me  so  well,  and  looked 
at  myself  in  the  mirror  with  some  curiosity.  I  never  per- 
mitted Vincenzo  to  enter  my  bedroom  at  night,  or  before  I 
was  dressed  in  the  morning,  lest  he  should  surprise  me  with- 
out these  appendages  which  were  my  chief  disguise,  for  in 
such  a  case  I  fancy  even  his  studied  composure  would  have 
given  way.  For,  disburdened  of  my  smoke-colored  glasses, 
I  appeared  what  I  was,  young  and  vigorous  in  spite  of  my 
white  beard  and  hair.  My  face,  which  had  been  worn  and 
haggard  at  first,  had  filled  up  and  was  healthily  colored ; 
while  my  eyes,  the  spokesmen  of  my  thoughts,  were  bright 
with  the  clearness  and  fire  of  constitutional  strength 


172  VENDETTA! 

physical  well-being.  I  wondered,  as  I  stared  moodily  at  my 
own  reflection,  how  it  was  that  I  did  not  look  ill.  The  men- 
tal suffering  I  continually  underwent,  mingled  though  it  was 
with  a  certain  gloomy  satisfaction,  should  surely  have  left 
more  indelible  traces  on  my  countenance.  Yet  it  has  been 
proved  that  it  is  not  always  the  hollow-eyed,  sallow  and  de- 
spairing-looking persons  who  are  really  in  sharp  trouble — 
these  are  more  often  bilious  or  dyspeptic,  and  know  no  more 
serious  grief  than  the  incapacity  to  gratify  their  appetites  for 
the  high-flavored  delicacies  of  the  table.  A  man  may  be  en- 
dowed with  superb  physique,  and  a  constitution  that  is  in 
perfect  working  order — his  face  and  outward  appearance 
may  denote  the  most  harmonious  action  of  the  life  principle 
within  him — and  yet  his  nerves  may  be  so  finely  strung  that 
he  may  be  capable  of  suffering  acuter  agony  in  his  mind  than 
if  his  body  were  to  be  hacked  slowly  to  pieces  by  jagged 
knives,  and  it  will  leave  no  mark  on  his  features  while  youth 
still  has  hold  on  his  flesh  and  blood. 

So  it  was  with  me  ;  and  I  wondered  what  she — Nina — would 
say,  could  she  behold  me,  unmasked  as  it  were,  in  the  sc.li- 
tude  of  my  own  room.  This  thought  roused  another  in  my 
mind — another  at  which  I  smiled  grimly.  I  was  an  engaged 
man  !  Engaged  to  marry  my  own  wife  ;  betrothed  for  the 
second  time  to  the  same  woman  !  What  a  difference  be- 
tween this  and  my  first  courtship  of  her  !  Then,  who  so 
great  a  fool  as  I — who  so  adoring,  passionate  and  devoted  ! 
Now,  who  so  darkly  instructed,  who  so  cold,  so  absolutely 
pitiless !  The  climax  to  my  revenge  was  nearly  reached.  I 
looked  through  the  coming  days  as  one  looks  through  a  tele- 
scope out  to  sea,  and  I  could  watch  the  end  approaching 
like  a  phantom  ship — neither  slow  nor  fast,  but  steadily  and 
silently.  I  was  able  to  calculate  each  event  in  its  due 
order,  and  I  knew  there  was  no  fear  of  failure  in  the  final 
result.  Nature  itself — the  sun,  moon  and  stars,  the  sweep- 
ing circle  of  the  seasons — all  seem  to  aid  in  the  cause  of 
rightful  justice.  Man's  duplicity  may  succeed  in  withhold- 
ing a  truth  for  a  time,  but  in  the  end  it  must  win  its  way. 
Once  resolve,  and  then  determine  to  carry  out  that  resolve, 
and  it  is  astonishing  to  note  with  what  marvelous  ease  every- 
thing makes  way  for  you,  provided  there  be  no  innate  weak- 
ness in  yourself  which  causes  you  to  hesitate.  I  had  for- 
merly been  weak,  I  knew,  very  weak — else  I  had  never  been 
fooled  by  wife  and  friend ;  but  now,  now  my  strength  was  as 
the  strength  of  a  demon  working  within  me.  My  hand  had 


VENDETTA!  173 

already  closed  with  an  iron  grip  on  two  false  unworthy  lives, 
and  had  I  not  sworn  " never  to  relax,  never  to  relent"  till  my 
vengeance  was  accomplished  ?  I  had  !  Heaven  and  earth 
had  borne  witness  to  my  vow,  and  now  held  me  to  its  stern 

fulfillment. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WINTER,  or  what  the  Neapolitans  accept  as  winter,  came 
on  apace.  For  some  time  past  the  air  had  been  full  of  that 
mild  chill  and  vaporous  murkiness,  which,  not  cold  enough 
to  be  bracing,  sensibly  lowered  the  system  and  depressed  the 
spirits.  The  careless  and  jovial  temperament  of  the  people, 
However,  was  never  much  affected  by  the  change  of  seasons 
— they  drank  more  hot  coffee  than  usual,  and  kept  their  feet 
warm  by  dancing  from  midnight  up  to  the  small  hours  of  the 
morning.  The  cholera  was  a  thing  of  the  past — the  cleansing 
of  the  city,  the  sanitary  precautions,  which  had  been  so  much 
talked  about  and  recommended  in  order  to  prevent  another 
outbreak  in  the  coming  year,  were  all  forgotten  and  neglected, 
and  the  laughing  populace  tripped  lightly  over  the  graves  of 
its  dead  hundreds  as  though  they  were  odorous  banks  of 
flowers.  "  Oggi /  Oggi/"  is  their  cry — to-day,  to-day! 
Never  mind  what  happened  yesterday,  or  what  will  happen 
to-morrow — leave  that  to  *  signori  Santi  and  la  Signora  Ma- 
donna !  And  after  all  there  is  a  grain  of  reason  in  their  folly,  for 
many  of  the  bitterest  miseries  of  man  grow  out  of  a  fatal  habit 
of  looking  back  or  looking  forward,  and  of  never  living  actually 
in  the  full-faced  present.  Then,  too,  Carnival  was  approach- 
ing ;  Carnival,  which,  though  denuded  of  many  of  its  best 
and  brightest  features,  still  reels  through  the  streets  of  Naples 
with  something  of  the  picturesque  madness  that  in  old  times 
used  to  accompany  its  prototype,  the  Feast  of  Bacchus.  I 
was  reminded  of  this  coming  festivity  on  the  morning  of  the 
2ist  of  December,  when  I  noted  some  unusual  attempts  on 
the  part  of  Vincenzo  to  control  his  countenance,  that  often, 
in  spite  of  his  efforts,  broadened  into  a  sunny  smile  as  though 
some  humorous  thought  had  flitted  across  his  mind.  He  be- 
trayed himself  at  last  by  asking  me  demurely  whether  I  pur- 
posed taking  any  part  in  the  carnival  ?  I  smiied  and  shook 
my  head.  Vincenzo  looked  dubious,  but  finally  summoned 
up  courage  to  say  : 

"  Will  the  eccellenza  permit " 


174  VENDETTA! 

"You  to  make  a  fool  of  yourself  ?  "  I  interrupted,  "by  all 
means  !  Take  your  own  time,  enjoy  the  fun  as  much  as  you 
please  ;  I  promise  you  i  will  ask  no  account  of  your  actions.'* 

He  was  much  gratified,  and  attended  to  me  with  even  more 
punctiliousness  than  usual.  As  he  prepared  my  breakfast  I 
asked  him  : 

"  By  the  way,  when  does  the  carnival  begin  ?  " 

"  On  the  26th,"  he  answered,  with  a  slight  air  of  surprise. 
"  Surely  the  eccellenza  knows." 

"Yes,  yes,"  I  said,  impatiently.  "  I  know,  but  I  had  for- 
gotten. I  am  not  young  enough  to  keep  the  dates  of  these 
follies  in  my  memory.  What  letters  have  you  there  ?  " 

He  handed  me  a  small  tray  full  of  different  shaped  missives, 
some  from  fair  ladies  who  "  desired  the  honor  of  my  com- 
pany," others  from  tradesmen,  "  praying  the  honor  of  my  cus- 
tom," all  from  male  and  female  toadies  as  usual,  I  thought 
contemptuously,  as  I  turned  them  over,  when  my  glance  was 
suddenly  arrested  by  one  special  envelope,  square  in  form 
and  heavily  bordered  with  black,  on  which  the  postmark 
"  Roma  "  stood  out  distinctly.  "  At  last !  "  I  thought,  and 
breathed  heavily.  I  turned  to  my  valet,  who  was  giving  the 
final  polish  to  my  breakfast  cup  and  saucer : 

"  You  may  leave  the  room,  Vincenzo,"  I  said,  briefly.  He 
bowed,  the  door  opened  and  shut  noiselessly — he  was  gone. 

Slowly  I  broke  the  seal  of  that  fateful  letter ;  a  letter  from 
Guido  Ferrari,  a  warrant  self-signed,  for  his  own  execution  ! 

"  MY  BEST  FRIEND,"  so  it  ran,  "  you  will  guess  by  the 
*  black  flag'  on  my  envelope  the  good  news  I  have  to  give 
you.  My  uncle  is  dead  at  last,  thank  God  !  and  I  am  left  his 
sole  heir  unconditionally.  I  am  free,  and  shall  of  course  re- 
turn to  Naples  immediately,  that  is,  as  soo!>  as  some  trifling 
law  business  has  been  got  through  with  the  executors.  I  be- 
lieve I  can  arrange  my  return  for  the  23d  or  24th  instant, 
but  will  telegraph  to  you  the  exact  day,  and,  if  possible,  the 
exact  hour.  Will  you  oblige  me  by  not  announcing  this  to 
the  countess,  as  I  wish  to  take  her  by  surprise.  Poor  girl ! 
she  will  have  often  felt  lonely,  I  am  sure,  and  I  want  to  see 
the  first  beautiful  look  of  rapture  and  astonishment  in  her 
eyes  !  You  can  understand  this,  can  you  not,  amico,  or  does 
it  seem  to  you  a  folly  ?  At  any  rate,  I  should  consider  it 
very  churlish  were  I  to  keep  you  in  ignorance  of  my  coming 
home,  and  1  know  you  vill  humor  me  in  my  desire  that  the 
news  should  be  withheld  from  Nina,  How  delighted  she 


VENDETTA !  175 

will  be,  and  what  a  joyous  carnival  we  will  have  this  winter  ! 
I  do  not  think  I  ever  felt  more  light  of  heart ;  perhaps  it  is 
because  I  am  so  much  heavier  in  pocket.  I  am  glad  of  the 
money,  as  it  places  me  on  a  more  equal  footing  with  her,  and 
though  all  her  letters  to  me  have  been  full  of  the  utmost  ten- 
derness, still  I  feel  she  will  think  even  better  of  me,  now  I 
am  in  a  position  somewhat  nearer  to  her  own.  As  for  you, 
my  good  conte,  on  my  return  I  shall  make  it  my  first  duty  to 
pay  back  with  interest  the  rather  large  debt  I  owe  to  you — 
thus  my  honor  will  be  satisfied,  and  you,  I  am  sure,  will  have 
a  better  opinion  of 

"  Yours  to  command, 

"  GUIDO  FERRARI." 

This  was  the  letter,  and  I  read  it  over  and  over  again. 
Some  of  the  words  burned  themselves  into  my  memory  as 
though  they  were  living  flame.  "  All  her  letters  to  me  have 
been  full  of  the  utmost  tenderness  !  "  Oh,  miserable-dupe  ! 
fooled,  fooled  to  the  acme  of  folly  even  as  I  had  been  !  She, 
the  arch-traitress,  to  prevent  his  entertaining  the  slightest 
posible  suspicion  or  jealousy  of  her  actions  during  his  ab- 
sence, had  written  him,  no  doubt,  epistles  sweet  as  honey, 
brimming  over  with  endearing  epithets  and  vows  of  constancy, 
even  while  she  knew  she  had  accepted  me  as  her  husband — 
me — good  God  !  What  a  devil's  dance  of  death  it  was  !  - 

"  On  my  return  I  shall  make  it  my  first  duty  to  pay  back 
with  interest  the  rather  large  debt  I  owe  you  "  (  rather  large 
indeed,  Guido,  so  large  that  you  have  no  idea  of  its  extent !), 
"thus  my  honor  will  be  satisfied"  (and  so  will  mine  in  part), 
"  and  you,  I  am  sure,  will  have  a  better  opinion  of  yours  to  com- 
mand" Perhaps  I  shall,  Guido — mine  to  command  as  you 
are — perhaps  when  all  my  commands  are  fulfilled  to  the 
bitter  end,  I  may  think  more  kindly  of  you.  But  not  till 
then  !  In  the  meantime — I  thought  earnestly  for  a  few  min- 
utes, and  then  sitting  down,  I  penned  the  following  note. 

"  Caro  amico  !  Delighted  to  hear  of  your  good  fortune, 
and  still  more  enchanted  to  know  you  will  soon  enliven  us 
all  with  your  presence  !  I  admire  your  little  plan  of  surpris- 
ing the  countess,  and  will  respect  your  wishes  in  the  matter. 
But  you,  on  your  part,  must  do  me  a  trifling  favor  :  we  have 
been  very  dull  since  you  left,  and  I  purpose  to  start  the  gay- 
eties  afresh  by  giving  a  dinner  on  the  24th  (Christmas  Eve), 
in  honor  of  your  return — an  epicurean  repast  for  gentlemen 


176  VENDETTA! 

only.  Therefore,  I  ask  you  to  oblige  me  by  fixing  your  re- 
turn for  that  day,  and  on  arrival  at  Naples,  come  straight  to 
me  at  this  hotel,  that  I  may  have  the  satisfaction  of  being 
the  first  to  welcome  you  as  you  deserve.  Telegraph  your 
answer  and  the  hour  of  your  train  ;  and  my  carriage  shall 
meet  you  at  the  station.  The  dinner-hour  can  be  fixed  to 
suit  your  convenience  of  course  ;  what  say  you  to  eight 
o'clock  ?  After  dinner  you  can  betake  yourself  to  the  Villa 
Romani  when  you  please — your  enjoyment  of  the  lady's 
surprise  and  rapture  will  be  the  more  keen  for  having  been 
slightly  delayed.  Trusting  you  will  not  refuse  to  gratify  an 
old  man's  whim,  I  am, 

"  Yours  for  the  time  being, 

"  CESARE  OLIVA." 

This  epistle  finished  and  written  in  the  crabbed  disguised 
penmanship  it  was  part  of  my  business  to  effect,  I  folded, 
sealed  and  addressed  it,  and  summoning  Vincenzo,  bade 
him  post  it  immediately.  As  soon  as  he  had  gone  on  this 
errand,  I  sat  down  to  my  as  yet  untasted  breakfast  and  made 
some  effort  to  eat  as  usual.  But  my  thoughts  were  too  active 
for  appetite — I  counted  on  my  fingers  the  days — there  were 
four,  only  four,  between  me  and — what?  One  thing  was 
certain — I  must  see  my  wife,  or  rather  I  should  say  my 
betrothed — I  must  see  her  that  very  day.  I  then  began  to 
consider  how  my  courtship  had  progressed  since  that  even- 
ing when  she  had  declared  she  loved  me.  I  had  seen  her 
frequently,  though  not  daily — her  behavior  had  been  by  turns 
affectionate,  adoring,  timid,  gracious  and  once  or  twice 
passionately  loving,  though  the  la.ter  impulse  in  her  I  had 
always  coldly  checked.  For  though  I  could  bear  a  great 
deal,  any  outburst  of  sham  sentiment  on  her  part  sickened 
and  filled  me  with  such  utter  loathing  that  often  when  she 
was  more  than  usually  tender  I  dreaded  lest  my  pent-up 
wrath  should  break  loose  and  impel  me  to  kill  her  swiftly 
and  suddenly  as  one  crushes  the  head  of  a  poisonous  adder — 
an  all-too-merciful  death  for  such  as  she.  I  preferred  to  woo 
her  by  gifts  alone — and  her  hands  were  always  ready  to  take 
whatever  I  or  others  chose  to  offer  her.  From  a  rare  jewel 
to  a  common  flower  she  never  refused  anything — her  strongest 
passions  were  vanity  and  avarice.  Sparkling  gems  from  the 
pilfered  store  of  Carmelo  Neri — trinkets  which  I  had  espe- 
cially designed  for  her — lace,  rich  embroideries,  bouquets  of 
hot-house  blossoms,  gilded  boxes  of  costly  sweets — nothing 


VENDETTA  t  177 

came  amiss  to  her — she  accepted  all  with  a  certain  covetous 
glee  which  she  was  at  no  pains  to  hide  irom  me — nay,  she 
made  it  rather  evident  that  she  expected  such  things  as  her 
right. 

And  after  all,  what  did  it  matter  to  me — I  thought — of 
what  value  was  anything  I  possessed  save  to  assist  me  in 
carrying  out  the  punishment  I  had  destined  for  her?  I 
studied  her  nature  with  critical  coldness — I  saw  its  inbred 
vice  artfully  concealed  beneath  the  affectation  of  virtue — every 
day  she  sunk  lower  in  my  eyes,  and  I  wondered  vaguely  how 
I  could  ever  have  loved  so  coarse  and  common  a  thing ! 
Lovely  she  certainly  was — lovely  too  are  many  of  the  wretched 
outcasts  who  sell  themselves  in  the  streets  for  gold,  and  who 
in  spite  of  their  criminal  trade  are  less  vile  than  such  a 
woman  as  the  one  I  had  wedded.  Mere  beauty  of  face  and 
form  can  be  bought  as  easily  as  one  buys  a  flower — but  the 
loyal  heart,  the  pure  soul,  the  lofty  intelligence  which  can 
make  of  woman  an  angel — these  are  unpurchasable  ware,  and 
seldom  fall  to  the  lot  of  man.  For  beauty,  though  so  perish- 
able, is  a  snare  to  us  all — it  maddens  our  blood  in  spite  of 
ourselves — we  men  are  made  so.  How  was  it  that  I — even  I, 
who  now  loathed  the  creature  I  had  once  loved — could  not 
look  upon  her  physical  loveliness  without  a  foolish  thrill  of 
passion  awaking  within  me — passion  that  had  something  of 
the  murderous  in  it — admiration  that  was  almost  brutal — 
feelings  which  I  could  not  control  though  I  despised  myself 
for  them  while  they  lasted  !  There  is  a  weak  point  in  the 
strongest  of  us,  and  wicked  women  know  well  where  we  are 
most  vulnerable.  One  dainty  pin-prick  well-aimed — and  all 
the  barriers  of  caution  and  reserve  are  broken  down — we  are 
ready  to  fling  away  our  souls  for  a  smile  or  a  kiss.  Surely 
at  the  last  day  when  we  are  judged — and  may  be  condemned 
— we  can  make  our  last  excuse  to  the  Creator  in  the  words 
of  the  first  misguided  man  : 

"The  woman  whom  thou  gav*-st  to  be  with  me — she 
tempted  me,  and  I  did  eat !  " 

I  lost  no  time  that  day  in  going  to  the  Villa  Romani.  I 
drove  there  in  my  carriage,  taking  with  me  the  usual  love- 
offering  in  the  shape  of  a  large  gilded  osier-basket  full  of 
white  violets.  Their  delicious  odor  reminded  me  of  that 
May  morning  when  Stella  was  born — and  then  quickly  there 
flashed  into  my  mind  the  words  spoken  by  Guido  Ferrari  at 
the  time.  How  mysterious  they  had  seemed  to  me  then — 
how  clear  their  meaning  now  1  On  arriving  at  the  villa  I 

22 


178  VENDETTA! 

found  my  fiancee  in  her  own  boudoir,  attired  in  morning 
deshabille,  if  a  trailing  robe  of  white  cashmere  trimmed  with 
Mechlin  lace  and  swan's-down  can  be  considerid  deshabille. 
Her  rich  hair  hung  loosely  on  her  shoulders,  and  she  was 
seated  in  a  velvet  easy-chair  before  a  small  sparkling  wood 
fire,  reading.  Her  attitude  was  one  of  luxurious  ease  and 
grace,  but  she  sprung  up  as  soon  as  her  maid  announced  me, 
and  came  forward  with  her  usual  charming  air  of  welcome, 
in  which  there  was  something  imperial,  as  of  a  sovereign  who 
receives  a  subject.  I  presented  the  flowers  I  had  brought, 
with  a  few  words  of  studied  and  formal  compliment,  uttered 
for  the  benefit  of  the  servant  who  lingered  in  the  room — then 
I  added  in  a  lower  tone  : 

"  I  have  news  of  importance — can  I  speak  to  you  pri- 
vately ?  " 

She  smiled  assent,  and  motioning  me  by  a  graceful  gesture 
of  her  hand  to  take  a  seat,  she  at  once  dismissed  her  maid. 
As  soon  as  the  door  had  closed  behind  the  girl  I  spoke  at 
once  and  to  the  point,  scarcely  waiting  till  my  wife  resumed 
her  easy-chair  before  the  fire. 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Signer  Ferrari." 

She  started  slightly,  but  said  nothing,  she  merely  bowed 
her  head  and  raised  her  delicately  arched  eyebrows  with  a 
look  of  inquiry  as  of  one  who  should  say,  "  Indeed  !  in  what 
way  does  this  concern  me  ?  "  I  watched  her  narrowly,  and 
then  continued,  "  He  is  coming  back  in  two  or  three  days — 
he  says  he  is  sure,"  and  here  I  smiled,  "  that  you  will  be  de- 
lighted to  see  him." 

This  time  she  half  rose  from  her  seat,  her  lips  moved  as 
though  she  would  speak,  but  she  remained  silent,  and  sinking 
back  again  among  her  violet  velvet  cushions,  she  grew  very 
pale. 

"  If,"  I  went  on,  "  you  have  any  reason  to  think  that  he 
may  make  himself  disagreeable  to  you  when  he  knows  of  your 
engagement  to  me,  out  of  disappointed  ambition,  conceit,  or 
self-interest  (for  of  course  you  never  encouraged  him),  I  should 
advise  you  to  go  on  a  visit  to  some  friends  for  a  few  days,  till 
his  irritation  shall  have  somewhat  passed.  What  say  you  to 
such  a  plan  ?  " 

She  appeared  to  meditate  for  a  few  moments — then  rais- 
ing her  lovely  eyes  with  a  wistful  and  submissive  look,  she 
replied  : 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  Cesare  !  Signer  Ferrari  is  cer- 
tainly rash  and  hot-tempered,  he  might  be  presumptuous 


VENDETTA!  179 

enough  to — But  you  do  not  think  of  yourself  in  the  matter! 
Surely  you  also  are  in  danger  of  being  insulted  by  him  when 
he  knows  all  ? " 

"  I  shall  be  on  my  guard  ! "  I  said,  quietly.  "  Besides,  I 
can  easily  pardon  any  outburst  of  temper  on  his  part — it  will 
be  perfectly  natural,  I  think  !  To  lose  all  hope  of  ever  win- 
ning such  a  love  as  yours  must  needs  be  a  sore  trial  to  one 
of  his  hot  blood  and  fiery  impulses.  Poor  fellow  !  "  and  I 
sighed  and  shook  my  head  with  benevolent  gentleness.  "  By 
the  way,  he  tells  me  he  has  had  letters  from  you  ? " 

I  put  this  question  carelessly,  but  it  took  her  by  surprise 
She  caught  her  breath  hard  and  looked  at  me  sharply,  with 
an  alarmed  expression.  Seeing  that  my  face  was  perfectly 
impassive,  she  recovered  her  composure  instantly,  and  an- 
swered : 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  have  been  compelled  to  write  to  him  once 
or  twice  on  matters  of  business  connected  with  my  late 
husband's  affairs.  Most  unfortunately,  Fabio  made  him  one 
of  the  trustees  of  his  fortune  in  case  of  his  death — it  is  exceed- 
ingly awkward  for  me  that  he  should  occupy  that  position — 
it  appears  to  give  him  some  authority  over  my  actions.  In 
reality  he  has  none.  He  has  no  doubt  exaggerated  the  num- 
ber of  times  I  have  written  to  him  ?  it  would  be  like  his  im- 
pertinence to  do  so." 

Though  this  last  remark  was  addressed  to  me  almost  as  a 
question,  I  let  it  pass  without  response.  I  reverted  to  my 
original  theme. 

"  What  think  you,  then  ?  "  I  said.  "  Will  you  remain  here 
or  will  you  absent  yourself  for  a  few  days  ? " 

She  rose  from  her  chair  and  approaching  me,  knelt  down 
at  my  side,  clasping  her  two  little  hands  round  my  arm. 
"  With  your  permission,"  she  returned,  softly,  "  I  will  go  to 
the  convent  where  I  was  educated.  It  is  some  eight  or  ten 
miles  distant  from  here,  and  I  think  "  (here  she  counterfeited 
the  most  wonderful  expression  of  ingenuous  sweetness  and 
piety) — "I  think  I  should  like  to  make  a  ' retreat' — that  is, 
devote  some  time  solely  to  the  duties  of  religion  before  I 
enter  upon  a  second  marriage.  The  dear  nuns  would  be  so 
glad  to  see  me — and  I  am  sure  you  will  not  object  ?  It 
will  be  a  good  preparation  for  my  future." 

I  seized  her  caressing  hands  and  held  them  hard,  while  I 
looked  upon  her  kneeling  there  like  the  white-robed  figure 
of  a  praying  saint. 

"  It  will  .indeed  ! "  I  said  in  a  harsh  voice.     "  The  best  of 


180  VEND  ETTA  t 

all  possible  preparations  !  We  none  of  us  know  what  may 
happen — we  cannot  tell  whether  life  or  death  awaits  us — it 
is  wise  to  prepare  for  either  bywords  of  penitence  and  devo- 
tion !  I  admire  this  beautiful  spirit  in  you,  carina  !  Go  to 
the  convent  by  all  means  !  I  shall  find  you  there  and  will 
visit  you  when  the  wrath  and  bitterness  of  our  friend  Ferrari 
have  been  smoothed  into  silence  and  resignation.  Yes — go 
to  the  convent,  among  the  good  and  pious  nuns — and  when 
you  pray  for  yourself,  pray  for  the  peace  of  your  dead  hus- 
band's soul — and — for  me  !  Such  prayers,  unselfish  and 
earnest,  uttered  by  pure  lips  like  yours,  fly  swiftly  to  heaven  ! 
And  as  for  young  Guido — have  no  fear — I  promise  you  he 
shall  offend  you  no  more  ! " 

"  Ah,  you  do  not  know  him  !  "  she  murmured,  lightly  kiss- 
ing my  hands  that  still  held  hers ;  "  I  fear  he  will  give  you  a 
great  deal  of  trouble." 

"  I  shall  at  any  rate  know  how  to  silence  him,"  I  said,  re- 
leasing her  as  I  spoke,  and  watching  her  as  she  rose  from 
her  kneeling  position  and  stood  before  me,  supple  and  delicate 
as  a  white  iris  swaying  in  the  wind.  "  You  never  gave  him 
reason  to  hope — therefore  he  has  no  cause  of  complaint." 

"  True !  "  she  replied,  readily,  with  an  untroubled  smile. 
"  But  I  am  such  a  nervous  creature  !  I  am  always  imagin- 
ing evils  that  never  happen.  And  now,  Cesare,  when  do  you 
wish  me  to  go  to  the  convent  ? " 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders  with  an  air  of  indifference. 

"  Your  submission  to  my  will,  mia  bella"  I  said,  coldly, 
"  is  altogether  charming,  and  flatters  me  much,  but  I  am  not 
your  master — not  yet !  Pray  choose  your  own  time,  and  suit 
your  departure  to  your  own  pleasure." 

"  Then,"  she  replied,  with  an  air  of  decision,  "  I  will  go  to- 
day. The  sooner  the  better — for  some  instinct  tells  me  that 
Guido  will  play  us  a  trick  and  return  before  we  expect  him. 
Yes— I  will  go  to-day." 

I  rose  to  take  my  leave.  "  Then  you  will  require  leisure 
to  make  your  preparations,"  I  said,  with  ceremonious  polite- 
ness. "  I  assure  you  I  approve  your  resolve.  If  you  inform 
the  superioress  of  the  convent  that  I  am  your  betrothed  hus- 
band, I  suppose  I  shall  be  permitted  to  see  you  when  I 
call  ?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  "  she  replied.  "  The  dear  nuns  will  do 
anything  for  me.  Their  order  is  one  of  perpetual  adoration, 
^nd  their  rules  are  very  strict,  but  they  do  not  apply  them  to 
their  old  pupils,  and  I  am  one  of  their  great  favorites." 


VENDETTA!  igi 

"  Naturally  !  "  I  observed.  "  And  will  you  also  join  in  the 
service  of  perpetual  adoration  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  " 

:'  It  needs  an  untainted  soul  like  yours,"  I  said,  with  a 
satirical  smile,  which  she  did  not  see,  "  to  pray  before  the  un- 
veiled Host  without  being  conscience-smitten  !  I  envy  you 
your  privilege.  /  could  not  do  it — but  you  are  probably 
nearer  to  the  angels  than  we  know.  And  so  you  will  pray 
for  me  ? " 

She  raised  her  eyes  with  devout  gentleness.  "  I  will  in- 
deed!" 

"  I  thank  you  ! " — and  I  choked  back  the  bitter  contempt 
and  disgust  I  had  for  her  hypocrisy  as  I  spoke — "  I  thank 
you  heartily — most  heartily  !  Addio  !  " 

She  came  or  rather  floated  to  my  side,  her  white  garments 
trailing  about  her  and  the  gold  of  her  hair  glittering  in  the 
mingled  glow  of  the  firelight  and  the  wintery  sunbeams  that 
shone  through  the  window.  She  looked  up — a  witch-like 
languor  lay  in  her  eyes — her  red  lips  pouted. 

*'  Not  one  kiss  before  you  go  ?  "  she  said. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

FOR  a  moment  I  lost  my  self-possession.  I  scarcely  re- 
member now  what  I  did.  I  know  I  clasped  her  almost  roughly 
in  my  arms — I  know  that  I  kissed  her  passionately  on  lips, 
throat  and  brow — and  that  in  the  fervor  of  my  embraces,  the 
thought  of  what  manner  of  vile  thing  she  was  came  swiftly 
upon  me,  causing  me  to  release  her  with  such  suddenness 
that  she  caught  at  the  back  of  a  chair  to  save  herself  from 
falling.  Her  breath  came  and  went  in  little  quick  gasps  of 
excitement,  her  face  was  flushed — she  looked  astonished, 
yet  certainly  not  displeased.  No,  she  was  not  angry,  but  I 
was — thoroughly  annoyed — bitterly  vexed  with  myself,  for 
being  such  a  fool. 

"  Forgive  me,"  I  muttered.     "  I  forgot— I " 

A  little  smile  stole  round  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 
"  You  are  fully  pardoned  !  "  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  you 
need  not  apologize." 

Her  smile  deepened  ;  suddenly  she  broke  into  a  rippling 
laugh,  sweet  and  silvery  as  a  bell — a  laugh  that  went  through 
pe  like  a  knife.  Was  it  not  the  self-same  laughter  that  had 


182  VENDETTA! 

pierced  my  brain  the  night  I  witnessed  her  amorous  inter- 
view with  Guido  in  the  avenue  ?  Had  not  the  cruel  mock- 
ery of  it  nearly  driven  me  mad  ?  I  could  not  endure  it — I 
sprung  to  her  side — she  ceased  laughing  and  looked  at  me 
in  wide-eyed  wonderment. 

"  Listen ! "  I  said,  in  an  impatient,  almost  fierce  tone. 
"  Do  not  laugh  like  that !  It  jars  my  nerves — it — hurts  me  ! 
I  will  tell  you  why.  Once — long  ago — in  my  youth — I  loved 
a  woman.  She  was  not  like  you — no — for  she  was  false ! 
False  to  the  very  heart's  core — false  in  every  word  she  ut- 
tered. You  understand  me  ?  she  resembled  you  in  nothing — 
nothing !  But  she  used  to  laugh  at  me — she  trampled  on  my 
life  and  spoiled  it — she  broke  my  heart !  It  is  all  past  now. 
I  never  think  of  her,  only  your  laughter  reminded  me— 
there  !  "  And  I  took  her  hands  and  kissed  them.  "  I  have 
told  you  the  story  of  my  early  folly — forget  it  and  forgive 
me !  It  is  time  you  prepared  for  your  journey,  is  it  not  ? 
If  I  can  be  of  service  to  you,  command  me — you  know  where 
to  send  for  me.  Good-bye  !  and  the  peace  of  a  pure  con- 
science be  with  you  !  " 

And  I  laid  my  burning  hand  on  her  head  weighted  with 
its  clustering  curls  of  gold.  She  thought  this  gesture  was 
one  of  blessing.  /  thought — God  only  knows  what  I  thought 
— yet  surely  if  curses  can  be  so  bestowed,  my  curse  crowned 
her  at  that  moment !  I  dared  not  trust  myself  longer  in  her 
presence,  and  without  another  word  or  look  I  left  her  and 
hurried  from  the  house.  I  knew  she  was  startled  and  at 
the  same  time  gratified  to  think  she  could  thus  have  moved 
me  to  any  display  of  emotion — but  I  would  not  even  turn  my 
head  to  catch  her  parting  glance.  I  could  not — I  was  sick 
of  myself  and  of  her.  I  was  literally  torn  asunder  between 
love  and  hatred — love  born  basely  of  material  feeling  alone 
— hatred,  the  offspring  of  a  deeply  injured  spirit  for  whose 
wrong  there  could  scarce  be  found  sufficient  remedy.  Once 
out  of  the  influence  of  her  bewildering  beauty,  my  mind 
grew  calmer — and  the  drive  back  to  the  hotel  in  my  carriage 
through  the  sweet  chillness  of  the  December  air  quieted  the 
feverish  excitement  of  my  blood  and  restored  me  to  myself. 
It  was  a  most  lovely  day — bright  and  fresh,  with  the  savor 
of  the  sea  in  the  wind.  The  waters  of  the  bay  were  of  a 
steel-like  blue  shading  into  deep  olive-green,  and  a  soft  haze 
lingered  about  the  shores  of  Amalfi  like  a  veil  of  gray,  shot 
through  with  silver  and  gold.  Down  the  streets  went  women 
in  picturesque  garb  carrying  on  their  heads  baskets  full  to 


VENDETTA  f  183 

the  brim  of  purple  violets  that  scented  the  air  as  they  passed 
— children  ragged  and  dirty  ran  along,  pushing  the  luxuriant 
tangle  of  their  dark  locks  away  from  their  beautiful  wild  an- 
telope eyes,  and,  holding  up  bunches  of  roses  and  narcissi 
with  smiles  as  brilliant  as  the  very  sunshine,  implored  the 
passengers  to  buy  "  for  the  sake  of  the  little  Gesu  who  was 
soon  coming  !  " 

Bells  clashed  and  clanged  from  the  churches  in  honor  of 
San  Tommaso,  whose  festival  it  was,  and  the  city  had  that 
aspect  of  gala  gayety  about  it,  which  is  in  truth  common 
enough  to  all  continental  towns,  but  which  seems  strange  to 
the  solemn  Londoner  who  sees  so  much  apparently  reason- 
less merriment  for  the  first  time.  He,  accustomed  to  have 
his  reluctant  laughter  pumped  out  of  him  by  an  occasional 
visit  to  the  theater  where  he  can  witness  the  "  original,"  En- 
glish translation  of  a  French  farce,  cannot  understand  why 
these  foolish  Neapolitans  should  laugh  and  sing  and  shout 
in  the  manner  they  do,  merely  because  they  are  glad  to  be 
alive.  And  after  much  dubious  consideration,  he  decides 
within  himself  that  they  are  all  rascals — the  scum  of  %  the 
earth — and  that  he  and  he  only  is  the  true  representative  of 
man  at  his  best — the  model  of  civilized  respectability.  And 
a  mournful  spectacle  he  thus  seems  to  the  eyes  of  us  "  base" 
foreigners — in  our  hearts  we  are  sorry  for  him  and  believe 
that  if  he  could  manage  to  shake  off  the  fetters  of  his  insular 
customs  and  prejudices,  he  might  almost  succeed  in  enjoy- 
ing life  as  much  as  we  do ! 

As  I  drove  along  I  saw  a  small  crowd  at  one  of  the  street 
corners — a  gesticulating,  laughing  crowd,  listening  to  an 
"  improvisatore  "  or  wandering  poet — a  plump-looking  fellow 
who  had  all  the  rhymes  of  Italy  at  his  fingers'  ends,  and  who 
could  make  a  poem  on  any  subject  or  an  acrostic  on  any 
name,  with  perfect  facility.  I  stopped  my  carriage  to  listen 
tohis  extemporized  verses,  many  of  which  were  really  admir- 
able, and  tossed  him  three  francs.  He  threw  them  up  in  the  air, 
one  after  the  other,  and  caught  them,  as  they  fell,  in  his  mouth, 
appearing  to  have  swallowed  them  all — then  with  an  inimi- 
table grimace,  he  pulled  off  his  tattered  cap  and  said  : 

"  Ancora  ajfamato,  excellenza  /"  (I  am  still  hungry  !)  amid 
the  renewed  laughter  of  his  easily  amused  audience.  A 
merry  poet  he  was  and  without  conceit — and  his  good  humor 
merited  the  extra  silver  pieces  I  gave  him,  which  caused  him, 
to  wish  me — "  Buon  cppetito  e  un  sorriso  della  Madonna  !" 
•*— (a  good  appetite  to  you  and  a  smile  of  the  Madonna  i) 


184  VENDETTA! 

Imagine  the  Lord  Laureate  of  England  standing  at  the  cor* 
ner  of  Regent  Street  swallowing  half-pence  for  his  rhymes ! 
Yet  some  of  the  quaint  conceits  strung  together  by  such  a 
fellow  as  this  improvisatore  might  furnish  material  for  many 
of  the  so-called  "  poets  "  whose  names  are  mysteriously 
honored  in  Britain. 

Further  on  I  came  upon  a  group  of  red-capped  coral 
fishers  assembled  round  a  portable  stove  whereon  roasting 
chestnuts  cracked  their  glossy  sides  and  emitted  savor) 
odors.  The  men  were  singing  gayly  to  the  thrumming  ot  an 
old  guitar,  and  the  song  they  sung  was  familiar  to  me. 
Stay  !  where  had  I  heard  it  ? — let  me  listen  ! 

"  Sciore  limone  * 
Le  voglio  far  mori  de  passione 
Zompa  llari  llira  1  " 

Ha  !  I  remembered  now.  When  I  had  crawled  out  of  the 
vault  through  the  brigand's  hole  of  entrance — when  my  heart 
had  bounded  with  glad  anticipations  never  to  be  realized — • 
when  I  had  believed  in  the  worth  of  love  and  friendship — 
when  I  had  seen  the  morning  sun  glittering  on  the  sea,  and 
had  thought — poor  fool ! — that  his  long  beams  were  like  so 
many  golden  flags  of  joy  hung  up  in  heaven  to  symbolize  the 
happiness  of  my  release  from  death  and  my  restoration  to 
liberty — then — then  I  had  heard  a  sailor's  voice  in  the  dis- 
tance singing  that  "  ritornello,"  and  I  had  fondly  imagined 
its  impassioned  lines  were  all  for  me  !  Hateful  music — most 
bitter  sweetness !  I  could  have  put  my  hands  up  to  my  ears 
to  shut  out  the  sound  of  it  now  that  I  thought  of  the  time 
when  I  had  heard  it  last  !  For  then  I  had  possessed  a  heart 
— a  throbbing,  passionate,  sensitive  thing — alive  to  every 
emotion  of  tenderness  and  affection — now  that  heart  was 
dead  and  cold  as  a  stone.  Only  its  corpse  went  with  me 
everywhere,  weighing  me  down  with  itself  to  the  strange 
grave  it  occupied,  a  grave  wherein  were  also  buried  so  many 
dear  delusions — such  plaintive  regrets,  such  pleading  mem- 
ories, that  surely  it  was  no  wonder  their  small  ghosts  arose 
and  haunted  me,  saying,  "  Wilt  thou  not  weep  for  this  lost 
sweetness  ?  "  "  Wilt  thou  not  relent  before  such  a  remem- 
brance 1  "  or  "  Hast  thou  no  desire  for  that  past  delight 7" 
But  to  all  such  inward  temptations  my  soul  was  deaf  and 
inexorable ;  justice — stern,  immutable  justice  was  what  I 
sought  and  what  I  meant  to  have. 

May  be  you  find   it  hard  to  understand  the   possibility  of 
*  Neapolitan  dialect. 


VENDETTA!  !$.£ 

scheming  and  carrying  out  so  prolonged  a  vengeance  as  mine  ? 
If  you  that  read  these  pages  are  English,  I  know  it  will  seem 
to  you  well-nigh  incomprehensible.  The  temperate  blood  of 
the  northerner,  combined  with  his  open,  unsuspicious  nature, 
has,  I  admit,  the  advantage  over  us  in  matters  of  personal 
injury.  An  Englishman,  so  I  hear,  is  incapable  of  nourish- 
ing a  long  and  deadly  resentment,  even  against  an  unfaithful 
wife — he  is  too  indifferent,  he  thinks  it  not  worth  his  while. 
But  we  Neapolitans,  we  can  carry  a  "  vendetta  "  through  a 
life-time — ay,  through  generation  after  generation  !  This  is 
bad,  you  say — immoral,  unchristian.  No  doubt  !  We  are 
more  than  half  pagans  at  heart ;  we  are  as  our  country  and 
our  traditions  have  made  us.  It  will  need  another  visitation 
of  Christ  before  we  shall  learn  how  to  forgive  those  that  de- 
spitefully  use  us.  Such  a  doctrine  seems  to  us  a  mere  play 
upon  words — a  weak  maxim  only  fit  for  children  and  priests. 
Besides,  did  Christ  himself  forgive  Judas  ?  The  gospel  does 
not  say  so  ! 

When  I  reached  my  own  apartments  at  the  hotel  I  felt 
worn  out  and  fagged.  I  resolved  to  rest  and  receive  no 
visitors  that  day.  While  giving  my  orders  to  Vincenzo  a 
thought  occurred  to  me.  I  went  to  a  cabinet  in  the  room  and 
unlocked  a  secret  drawer.  In  it  lay  a  strong  leather  case. 
I  lifted  this,  and  bade  Vincenzo  unstrap  and  open  it.  He 
did  so,  nor  showed  the  least  sign  of  surprise  when  a  pair  of 
richly  ornamented  pistols  was  displayed  to  his  view. 

"  Good  weapons  ?  "  I  remarked,  in  a  casual  manner. 

My  vallet  took  each  one  out  of  the  case,  and  examined 
them  both  critically. 

"  They  need  cleaning,  eccellenza." 

"  Good  ! "  I  said,  briefly.  **  Then  clean  them  and  put 
them  in  good  order.  I  may  require  to  use  them." 

The  imperturbable  Vincenzo  bowed,  and  taking  the  weap- 
ons, prepared  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Stay  !  " 

He  turned.     I  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  I  believe  you  are  a  faithful  fellow,  Vincenzo,"  I  said. 

He  met  my  glance  frankly. 

'*  The  day  may  come,"  I  went  on,  quietly,  "  when  I  shall 
perhaps  put  your  fidelity  to  the  proof." 

The  dark  Tuscan  eyes,  keen  and  clear  the  moment  before, 
flashed  brightly  and  then  grew  humid. 

"  Eccellenza,  you  have  only  to  command  !  I  was  a  soldier 
$nce — I  know  what  duty  means.  But  there  is  a  better  s^ry- 


1 86  VENDETTA! 

ice — gratitude.  I  am  your  poor  servant,  but  you  have  won 
my  heart.  I  would  give  my  life  for  you  should  you  desire  it !  " 

He  paused,  half  ashamed  of  the  emotion  that  threatened 
to  break  through  his  mask  of  impassibility,  bowed  again  and 
would  have  left  me,  but  that  I  called  him  back  and  held  out 
my  hand. 

"  Shake  hands,  amico"  I  said,  simply. 

He  caught  it  with  an  astonished  yet  pleased  look — and  stoop- 
ing, kissed  it  before  I  could  prevent  him,  and  this  time  liter- 
ally scrambled  out  of  my  presence  with  an  entire  oblivion  of 
his  usual  dignity.  Left  alone,  I  considered  this  behavior  of 
his  with  half-pained  surprise.  This  poor  fellow  loved  me  it 
was  evident — why,  I  knew  not.  I  had  done  no  more  for 
him  than  any  other  master  might  have  done  for  a  good  serv- 
ant. I  had  often  spoken  to  him  with  impatience,  even 
harshness  ;  and  yet  I  had  "  won  his  heart " — so  he  said. 
Why  should  he  care  for  me  ?  why  should  my  poor  old  butler 
Giacoma  cherish  me  so  devotedly  in  his  memory  ;  why  should 
my  very  dog  still  love  and  obey  me,  when  my  nearest  and 
dearest,  my  wife  and  my  friend,  had  so  gladly  'forsaken  me, 
and  were  so  eager  to  forget  me !  Perhaps  fidelity  was  not 
the  fashion  now  among  educated  persons  ?  Perhaps  it  was 
a  worn-out  virtue,  left  to  the  bas-peuple — to  the  vulgar — and 
to  animals  ?  Progress  might  have  attained  this  result — no 
doubt  it  had. 

I  sighed  wearily,  and  threw  myself  down  in  an  arm-chair 
near  the  window,  and  watched  the  white-sailed  boats  skim- 
ming like  flecks  of  silver  across  the  blue-green  water.  The 
tinkling  of  a  tambourine  by  and  by  attracted  my  wandering 
attention,  and  looking  into  the  street  just  below  my  balcony 
I  saw  a  young  girl  dancing.  She  was  lovely  to  look  at,  and 
she  danced  with  exquisite  grace  as  well  as  modesty,  but  the 
beauty  of  her  face  was  not  so  much  caused  by  perfection  of 
feature  or  outline  as  by  a  certain  wistful  expression  that  had 
in  it  something  of  nobility  and  pride.  I  watched  her;  at  the 
conclusion  of  her  dance  she  held  up  her  tambourine  with  a 
bright  yet  appealing  smile.  Silver  and  copper  were  freely 
flung  to  her,  I  contributing  my  quota  to  the  amount ;  but  all 
she  received  she  at  once  emptied  into  a  leathern  bag  which 
was  carried  by  a  young  and  handsome  man  who  accompanied 
her,  and  who,  alas  !  was  totally  blind.  I  knew  the  couple 
well,  and  had  often  seen  them  ;  their  history  was  pathetic 
enough.  The  girl  had  been  betrothed  to  the  young  fellow 
when  he  had  occupied  a  fairly  good  position  as  a  worker  in 


VENDETTA!  187 

silver  filigree  jewelry.  His  eyesight,  long  painfully  strained 
over  his  delicate  labors,  suddenly  failed  him — he  lost  his 
place,  of  course,  and  was  utterly  without  resources.  He 
offered  to  release  his  fiancee  from  her  engagement,  but  she 
would  not  take  her  freedom — she  insisted  on  marrying  him 
at  once.  She  had  her  way,  and  devoted  herself  to  him  soul 
and  body — danced  in  the  streets  and  sung  to  gain  a  living 
for  herself  and  him  ;  taught  him  to  weave  baskets  so  that  he 
might  not  feel  himself  entirely  dependent  on  her,  and  she 
sold  these  baskets  for  him  so  successfully  that  he  was  grad- 
ually making  quite  a  little  trade  of  them.  Poor  child !  for 
she  was  not  much  more  than  a  child — what  a  bright  face  she 
had ! — glorified  by  the  self-denial  and  courage  of  her  every- 
day life.  No  wonder  she  had  won  the  sympathy  of  the  warm- 
hearted and  impulsive  Neapolitans — they  looked  upon  her 
as  a  heroine  of  romance  ;  and  as  she  passed  through  the 
streets,  leading  her  blind  husband  tenderly  by  the  hand,  there 
was  not  a  creature  in  the  city,  even  among  the  most  abandoned 
and  vile  characters,  who  would  have  dared  to  offer  her  the 
least  insult,  or  who  would  have  ventured  to  address  her  other- 
wise than  respectfully.  She  was  good,  innocent,  and  true  ; 
how  was  it,  I  wondered  dreamily,  that  /could  not  have  won 
a  woman's  heart  like  hers  ?  Were  the  poor  alone  to  possess 
all  the  old  world  virtues — honor  and  faith,  love  and  loyalty  ? 
Was  there  something  in  a  life  of  luxury  that  sapped  virtue 
at  its  root?  Evidently  early  training  had  little  to  do  with 
after  results,  for  had  not  my  wife  been  brought  up  among  an 
order  of  nuns  renowned  for  simplicity  and  sanctity  ;  had  not 
her  own  father  declared  her  to  be  "  as  pure  as  a  flower  on 
the  altar  of  the  Madonna ;  "  and  yet  the  evil  had  been  in  her, 
and  nothing  had  eradicated  it ;  for  even  religion,  with  her, 
was  a  mere  graceful  sham,  a  kind  of  theatrical  effect  used 
to  tone  down  her  natural  hypocrisy.  My  own  thoughts 
began  to  harass  and  weary  me.  I  took  up  a  volume  of  phil- 
osophic essays  and  began  to  read,  in  an  endeavor  to  distract 
my  mind  from  dwelling  on  the  one  perpetual  theme.  The 
day  wore  on  slowly  enough  ;  and  I  was  glad  when  the  even- 
ing closed  in,  and  when  Vincenzo,  remarking  that  the  night 
was  chilly,  kindled  a  pleasant  wood-fire  in  my  room,  and 
lighted  the  lamps.  A  little  while  before  my  dinner  was 
served  he  handed  me  a  letter  stating  that  it  had  just  been 
brought  by  the  Countess  Romani's  coachman.  It  bore  my 
own  seal  and  motto.  I  opened  it ;  it  was  dated,  "  La  San- 
tissima  Annunziata,"  and  ran  as  follows ; 


i&8  VENDETTA ! 

"  Beloved  !  I  arrived  here  safely ;  the  nuns  are  delighted 
to  see  me,  and  you  will  be  made  heartily  welcome  when  you 
come.  I  think  of  you  constantly — how  happy  I  felt  this 
morning  !  You  seemed  to  love  me  so  much  ;  why  are  you 
not  always  so  fond  of  your  faithful 

"  NINA  ? " 

I  crumpled  this  note  fiercely  in  my  hand  and  flung  it  into 
the  leaping  flames  of  the  newly  lighted  fire.  There  was  a 
faint  perfume  about  it  that  sickened  me — a  subtle  odor  like 
that  of  a  civet  cat  when  it  moves  stealthily  after  its  prey 
through  a  tangle  of  tropical  herbage.  I  always  detested 
scented  note-paper — I  am  not  the  only  man  who  does  so. 
One  is  led  to  fancy  that  the  fingers  of  the  woman  who  writes 
upon  it  must  have  some  poisonous  or  offensive  taint  about 
them,  which  she  endeavors  to  cover  by  the  aid  of  a  chemical 
concoction.  I  would  not  permit  myself  to  think  of  this  so 
"  faithful  Nina  "  as  she  styled  herself.  I  resumed  my  read- 
ing, and  continued  it  even  at  dinner,  during  which  meal 
Vincenzo  waited  upon  me  with  his  usual  silent  gravity  and 
decorum,  though  I  could  feel  that  he  watched  me  with  a 
certain  solicitude.  I  suppose  I  looked  weary — I  certainly 
felt  so,  and  retired  to  rest  unusually  early.  The  time  seemed 
to  me  so  long — would  the  end  never  come  ?  The  next  day 
dawned  and  trailed  its  tiresome  hours  after  it,  as  a  prisoner 
might  trail  his  chain  of  iron  fetters,  until  sunset,  and  then- 
then,  when  the  gray  of  the  wintery  sky  flashed  for  a  brief 
space  into  glowing  red — then,  while  the  water  looked  like 
blood  and  the  clouds  like  flame — then  a  few  words  sped  along 
the  telegraph  wires  that  stilled  my  impatience,  roused  my 
soul,  and  braced  every  nerve  and  muscle  in  my  body  to 
instant  action.  They  were  plain,  clear,  and  concise  : 

w  From  Guido  Ferrari,  Rome,  to  II  Conte  Cesare  Oliva, 
Naples. — Shall  be  with  you  on  the  24th  inst.  Train  arrives 
at  6:30  P.M.  Will  come  to  you  as  you  desire  without  fail." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

CHRISTMAS-EVE  !  The  day  had  been  extra  chilly,  with  fre- 
quent showers  of  stinging  rain,  but  toward  five  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  the  weather  cleared.  The  clouds,  which  ha4 


VENDETTA  !  189 

been  of  a  dull  uniform  gray,  began  to  break  asunder  and 
disclose  little  shining  rifts  of  pale  blue  and  bright  gold  ;  the 
sea  looked  like  a  wide  satin  ribbon  shaken  out  and  shimmer- 
ing with  opaline  tints.  Flower  girls  trooped  forth  making 
the  air  musical  with  their  mellow  cries  of  "  Fiori  !  chi  vuol 
fiori"  and  holding  up  their  tempting  wares — not  bunches  of 
holly  and  mistletoe  such  as  are  known  in  England,  but  roses, 
lilies,  jonquils,  and  sweet  daffodils.  The  shops  were 
brilliant  with  bouquets  and  baskets  of  fruits  and  flowers  ;  a 
glittering  show  of  etrennes,  or  gifts  to  suit  all  ages  and  con- 
ditions, were  set  forth  in  tempting  array,  from  a  box  of 
bonbons  costing  one  franc  to  a  jeweled  tiara  worth  a  million, 
while  in  many  of  the  windows  were  displayed  models  of  the 
"  Bethlehem,"  with  babe  Jesus  lying  in  his  manger,  for 
the  benefit  of  the  round-eyed  children — who,  after  staring 
fondly  at  His  waxen  image  for  some  time,  would  run  off 
hand  in  hand  to  the  nearest  church  where  the  usual  Christmas 
crtche  was  arranged,  and  there  kneeling  down,  would  begin  to 
implore  their  "  dear  little  Jesus,"  their  "  own  little  brother," 
riot  to  forget  them,  with  a  simplicity  of  belief  that  was  as 
touching  as  it  was  unaffected. 

I  am  told  that  in  England  the  principle  sight  on  Christmas* 
eve  are  the  shops  of  the  butchers  and  poulterers  hung  with  the 
dead  carcases  of  animals  newly  slaughtered,  in  whose  mouths 
are  thrust  bunches  of  prickly  holly,  at  which  agreeable  specta^ 
cle  the  passers-by  gape  with  gluttonous  approval.  Surely  there 
is  nothing  graceful  about  such  a  commemoration  of  the  birth 
of  Christ  as  this  ?  nothing  picturesque,  nothing  poetic  ? — notk 
ing  even  orthodox,  for  Christ  was  born  in  the  East,  and  the 
Orientals  are  very  small  eaters,  and  are  particularly  sparing  in 
the  use  of  meat.  One  wonders  what  such  an  unusual  display 
of  vulgar  victuals  has  to  do  with  the  coming  of  the  Saviour, 
who  arrived  among  us  in  such  poor  estate  that  even  a  decent 
roof  was  denied  to  Him.  Perhaps,  though,  the  English  people 
read  their  gospels  in  a  way  of  their  own,  and  understood  that 
the  wise  men  of  the  East,  who  are  supposed  to  have  brought 
the  Divine  Child  symbolic  gifts  of  gold,  frankincense,  and 
myrrh,  really  brought  joints  of  beef,  turkeys,  and  "  plum- 
pudding,"  that  vile  and  indigestible  mixture  at  which  an  Ital- 
ian shrugs  his  shoulders  in  visible  disgust.  There  is  some- 
thing barbaric,  I  suppose,  in  the  British  customs  still — some- 
thing that  reminds  one  of  their  ancient  condition  when  the 
Romans  conquered  them — when  their  supreme  idea  of  enjoy- 
ment was  to  have  an  ox  roasted  whole  before  them  while 


190  VENDETTA  t 

they  drank  "  wassail "  till  they  groveled  under  their  own 
tables  in  a  worse  condition  than  overfed  swine.  Coarse  and 
vulgar  plenty  is  still  the  leading  characteristic  at  the  dinners 
of  English  or  American  pan'cnus ;  they  have  scarcely  any 
idea  of  the  refinements  that  can  be  imparted  to  the  prosaic 
necessity  of  eating — of  the  many  little  graces  of  the  table 
that  are  understood  in  part  by  the  French,  but  that  perhaps 
never  reach  such  absolute  perfection  of  taste  and  skill  as  at 
the  banquets  of  a  cultured  and  clever  Italian  noble.  Some 
of  these  aie  veritable  "  feasts  of  the  gods,"  and  would  do 
honor  to  the  fabled  Olympus,  and  such  a  one  I  had  prepared 
for  Guido  Ferrari  as  a  greeting  to  him  on  his  return  from 
Rome — a  feast  of  welcome  and — farewell ! 

All  the  resources  of  the  hotel  at  which  I  stayed  had  been 
brought  into  requisition.  The  chef,  a  famous  cordon  bleu,  had 
transferred  the  work  of  the  usual  table  d'hote  to  his  underlings, 
and  had  bent  the  powers  of  his  culinary  intelligence  solely  on 
the  production  of  the  magnificent  dinner  I  had  ordered.  The 
landlord,  in  spite  of  himself,  broke  into  exclamations  of  won- 
der and  awe  as  he  listened  to  and  wrote  down  my  commands 
for  different  wines  of  the  rarest  kinds  and  choicest  vintages. 
The  servants  rushed  hither  and  thither  to  obey  my  various  be- 
hests, with  looks  of  immense  importance  ;  the  head  waiter,  a 
superb  official  who  prided  himself  on  his  artistic  taste,  took  the 
laying-out  of  the  table  under  his  entire  superintendence,  and 
nothing  was  talked  of  or  thought  of  for  the  time  but  the 
grandeur  of  my  proposed  entertainment. 

About  six  o'clock  I  sent  my  carriage  down  to  the  railway 
station  to  meet  Ferrari  as  I  had  arranged  ;  and  then,  at  my 
landlord's  invitation,  I  went  to  survey  the  stage  that  was  pre- 
pared for  one  important  scene  of  my  drama — to  see  if  the 
scenery,  side-lights,  and  general  effects  were  all  in  working 
order.  To  avoid  disarranging  my  own  apartments,  I  had 
chosen  for  my  dinner-party  a  room  on  the  ground-floor  of  the 
hotel,  which  was  often  let  out  for  marriage-breakfasts  and 
other  purposes  of  the  like  kind  ;  it  was  octagonal  in  shape,  not 
too  large,  and  I  had  had  it  most  exquisitely  decorated  for  the 
occasion.  The  walls  were  hung  with  draperies  of  gold-colored 
silk  and  crimson  velvet,  interspersed  here  and  therewith  long 
mirrors,  which  were  ornamented  with  crystal  candelabra,  in 
which  twinkled  hundreds  of  lights  under  rose-tinted  glass 
shades.  At  the  back  of  the  room,  a  miniature  conservatory 
was  displayed  to  view,  full  of  rare  ferns  and  subtly  perfumed 
exotics,  in  the  center  of  which  a  fountain  rose  and  fell  with 


VENDETTA  !  I9t 

regular  and  melodious  murmur.  Here,  later  on,  a  band  of 
stringed  instruments  and  a  choir  of  boys'  voices  were  to  be 
stationed,  so  that  sweet  music  might  be  heard  and  felt  without 
the  performers  being  visible.  One,  and  one  only,  of  the  long 
French  windows  of  the  room  was  left  uncurtained,  it  was  sim- 
ply draped  with  velvet  as  one  drapes  a  choice  picture,  and 
through  it  the  eyes  rested  on  a  perfect  view  of  the  Bay  of 
Naples,  white  with  the  wintery  moonlight. 

The  dinner-table,  laid  for  fifteen  persons,  glittered  with 
sumptuous  appointments  of  silver,  Venetian  glass,  and  the 
rarest  flowers  ;  the  floor  was  carpeted  with  velvet  pile,  in  which 
some  grains  of  ambergris  had  been  scattered,  so  that  in  walking 
the  feet  sunk,  as  it  were,  into  a  bed  of  moss  rich  with  the  odors 
of  a  thousand  spring  blossoms.  The  very  chairs  wherein  my 
guests  were  to  seat  themselves  were  of  a  luxurious  shape  and 
softly  stuffed,  so  that  one  could  lean  back  in  them  or  recline 
at  ease — in  short,  everything  was  arranged  with  a  lavish 
splendor  almost  befitting  the  banquet  of  an  eastern  monarch, 
and  yet  with  such  accurate  taste  that  there  was  no  detail  one 
could  have  wished  omitted. 

I  was  thoroughly  satisfied,  but  as  I  know  what  an  unwise 
plan  it  is  to  praise  servants  too  highly  for  doing  well  what  they 
are  expressly  paid  to  do,  I  intimated  my  satisfaction  to  my 
landlord  by  a  mere  careless  nod  and  smile  of  approval.  He, 
who  waited  on  my  every  gesture  with  abject  humility,  received 
this  sign  of  condescension  with  as  much  delight  as  though  it 
had  come  from  the  king  himself,  and  I  could  easily  see  that 
the  very  fact  of  my  showing  no  enthusiasm  at  the  result  of  his 
labors,  made  him  consider  me  a  greater  man  than  ever.  I 
now  went  to  my  own  apartments  to  don  my  evening  attire  ;  I 
found  Vincenzo  brushing  every  speck  of  dust  from  my  dress- 
coat  with  careful  nicety — he  had  already  arranged  the  other 
articles  of  costume  neatly  on  my  bed  ready  for  wear.  I  un- 
locked a  dressing-case  and  took  from  thence  three  studs,  each 
one  formed  of  a  single  brilliant  of  rare  clearness  and  luster, 
and  handed  them  to  him  to  fix  in  my  shirt-front.  While  he 
was  polishing  these  admiringly  on  his  coat-sleeve  I  watched 
him  earnestly — then  I  suddenly  addressed  him. 

"  Vincenzo  !  "     He  started. 

"  Eccellenza  ? " 

"  To-night  you  will  stand  behind  my  chair  and  assist  in  serv- 
ing the  wine." 

"Yes,  eccellenza." 

"  You  will,"  I  continued,  "  attend  particularly  to    Signer 


1 9 2  VENDETTA  I 

Ferrari,  who  will  sit  at  my  right  hand.  Take  care  that  kis 
glass  is  never  empty." 

"  Yes,  eccellenza." 

"  Whatever  may  be  said  or  done,"  I  went  on,  quietly,  u  you 
will  show  no  sign  of  alarm  or  surprise.  From  the  commence- 
ment of  dinner  till  I  tell  you  to  move,  remember  your  place 
is  fixed  by  me." 

The  honest  fellow  looked  a  little  puzzled,  but  replied  as 
before  : 

"  Yes,  eccellenza." 

I  smiled,  and  advancing,  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  How  about  the  pistols,  Vincenzo  ?  " 

"They  are  cleaned  and  ready  for  use,  eccellenza,"  he 
replied.  "  I  have  placed  them  in  your  cabinet." 

"  That  is  well !  "  I  said  with  a  satisfied  gesture.  "  You  can 
leave  me  and  arrange  the  salon  for  the  reception  of  my 
friends." 

He  disappeared,  and  I  busied  myself  with  my  toilet,  about 
which  I  was  for  once  unusually  particular.  The  conventional 
dress-suit  is  not  very  becoming,  yet  there  are  a  few  men  here 
and  there  who  look  well  in  it,  and  who,  in  spite  of  similarity 
in  attire,  will  never  be  mistaken  for  waiters.  Others  there  are 
who,  passable  in  appearance  when  clad  in  their  ordinary  gar- 
ments, reach  the  very  acme  of  plebeianism  when  they  clothe 
themselves  in  the  unaccommodating  evening-dress.  Fortu- 
nately, I  happened  to  be  one  of  the  former  class — the  sober 
black,  the  broad  white  display  of  starched  shirt-front  and  neat 
tie  became  me,  almost  too  well  I  thought.  It  would  have  been 
better  for  my  purposes  if  I  could  have  feigned  an  aspect  of 
greater  age  and  weightier  gravity.  I  had  scarcely  finished  my 
toilet  when  the  rumbling  of  wheels  in  the  court-yard  outside 
made  the  hot  blood  rush  to  my  face,  and  my  heart  beat  with 
feverish  excitement.  I  left  my  dressing-room,  however,  with 
a  composed  countenance  and  calm  step,  and  entered  my  pri- 
vate salon  just  as  its  doors  were  flung  open  and  "  Signor 
Ferrari  "  was  announced.  He  entered  smiling — his  face  was 
alight  with  good  humor  and  glad  anticipation — he  looked 
handsomer  than  usual. 

"  Eccomi  qua  /"  he  cried,  seizing  my  hands  enthusiastically 
in  his  own.  "  My  dear  conte,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you ! 
What  an  excellent  fellow  you  are  !  A  kind  of  amiable 
Arabian  Nights  genius,  who  occupies  himself  in  making 
mortals  happy.  And  how  are  you  ?  You  loojc  remarkably 
well ! " 


VENDETTA!  193 

"  I  can  return  the  compliment,"  I  said,  gayly.  "  You  are 
more  of  an  Antinous  than  ever." 

He  laughed,  well  pleased,  and  sat  down,  drawing  off.  his 
gloves  and  loosening  his  traveling  overcoat. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  plenty  of  cash  puts  a  man  in  good  humor, 
and  therefore  in  good  condition,"  he  replied.  "  But  my  dear 
fellow,  you  are  dressed  for  dinner — quel  preux  chevalier  I  I 
am  positively  unfit  to  be  in  your  company  !  You  insisted  that 
I  should  come  to  you  directly,  on  my  arrival,  but  I  really  must 
change  my  apparel.  Your  man  took  my  valise  ;  in  it  are  my 
dress-clothes — I  shall  not  be  ten  minutes  putting  them  on." 

"  Take  a  glass  of  wine  first,"  I  said,  pouring  out  some  of 
his  favorite  Montepulciano.  "  There  is  plenty  of  time.  It  is 
barely  seven,  and  we  do  not  dine  till  eight.  He  took  the 
wine  from  my  hand  and  smiled.  I  returned  the  smile,  add- 
ing, "  It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  receive  you,  Ferrari !  I 
have  been  impatient  for  your  return — almost  as  impatient 
as — "  He  paused  in  the  act  of  drinking,  and  his  eyes  flashed 
delightedly. 

"  As  she  has  ?  Piccinina  f  How  I  long  to  see  her  again! 
I  swear  to  you,  amico,  I  should  have  gone  straight  to  the  Villa 
Romani  had  I  obeyed  my  own  impulse — but  I  had  promised 
you  to  come  here,  and,  on  the  whole,  the  evening  will  do  as 
well " — and  he  laughed  wjth  a  covert  meaning  in  his  laugh- 
ter— "  perhaps  better  !  " 

My  hands  clinched,  but  I  said  with  forced  gayety : 

"  Ma  certamente  /  The  evening  will  be  much  better !  Is  it 
not  Byron  who  says  that  women,  like  stars,  look  best  at  night  ? 
You  will  find  her  the  same  as  ever,  perfectly  well  and  perfectly 
charming.  It  must  be  her  pure  and  candid  soul  that  makes 
her  face  so  fair !  It  may  be  a  relief  to  your  mind  to  know 
that  I  am  the  only  man  she  has  allowed  to  visit  her  during 
your  absence  ! " 

"  Thank  God  for  that !  "  cried  Ferrari,  devoutly,  as  he 
tossed  off  his  wine.  "  And  now  tell  me,  my  dear  conte,  what 
bacchanalians  are  coming  to-night  ?  Per  Dio,  after  all  I  am 
more  in  the  humor  for  dinner  than  love-making  !  " 

I  burst  out  laughing  harshly.  "  Of  course  !  Every  sensi- 
ble man  prefers  good  eating  even  to  good  women  !  Who  are 
my  guests  you  ask  ?  I  believe  you  know  them  all.  First, 
there  is  the  Duca  Filippo  Marina." 

"  By  Heaven  !  "  interrupted  Guido.     "An  absolute  gentle- 
man, who  by  his  manner  seems  to  challenge  the  universe  to 
disprove  his  dignity  1     Can  he  unbend  so  far  as  to  partake  of 
'3 


l$4  VENDETTA  I 

food  in  public  ?     My  dear  conte,  you  should  have  asked  him 
that  question !  " 

"  Then,"  I  went  on,  not  heeding  this  interruption,  "  Signer 
Fraschetti  and  the  Marchese  Giulano." 

"  Giulano  drinks  deep  !  "  laughed  Ferrari,  "  and  should  he 
mix  his  wines,  you  will  find  him  ready  to  stab  all  the  waiters 
before  the  dinner  is  half  over." 

"  In  mixing  wines,"  I  returned,  coolly,  "  he  will  but  imitate 
your  example,  caro  mio" 

"  Ah,  but  I  can  stand  it !  "  he  said.  "  He  cannot !  Few 
Neapolitans  are  like  me  !  " 

I  watched  him  narrowly,  and  went  on  with  the  list  of  my 
invited  guests. 

"  After  these,  comes  the  Capitano  Luigi  Freccia." 

"  What !  the  raging  fire-eater  ? "  exclaimed  Guido.     "  He 

who  at  every  second  word  raps  out  a  pagan  or  Christian  oath, 

and  cannot  for  his  life  tell  any  difference  between  the  two  !  " 

"  And   the    illustrious   gentleman    Crispiano    Dulci    and 

Antonio  Biscardi,  artists  like  yourself,"  I  continued. 

He  frowned  slightly — then  smiled. 

"  I  wish  them  good  appetites  !  Time  was  when  I  envied 
their  skill — now  I  can  afford  to  be  generous.  They  are  wel- 
come to  the  whole  field  of  art  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I 
have  said  farewell  to  the  brush  and  palette — I  shall  never 
paint  again." 

True  enough !  I  thought,  eying  the  shapely  white  hand 
with  which  he  just  then  stroked  his  dark  mustache  ;  the  same 
hand  on  which  my  family  diamond  ring  glittered  like  a  star. 
He  looked  up  suddenly. 

"  Go  on,  conte  !     I  am  all  impatience.     Who  come  next  ?  " 

"  More  fire-eaters,  I  suppose  you  will  call  them,"  I  an- 
swered, "  and  French  fire-eaters,  too.  Monsieur  le  Marquis 
D'Avencourt,  and  le  beau  Capitaine  Eugene  de  Hamal." 

Ferrari  looked  astonished.  "  Per  Bacco  !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Two  noted  Paris  duelists  !  Why — what  need  have  you  of 
such  valorous  associates  ?  I  confess  your  choice  surprises 
me." 

"  I  understood  them  to  be  your  friends,"  I  said,  composed- 
ly. "If  you  remember, you  introduced  me  to  them.  I  know 
nothing  of  the  gentlemen  beyond  that  they  appear  to  be 
pleasant  fellows  and  good  talkers.  As  for  their  reputed  skill 
I  am  inclined  to  set  that  down  to  a  mere  rumor,  at  any  rate, 
my  dinner-table  will  scarcely  provide  a  field  for  the  display 
of  swordsmanship." 


VENDETTA!  195 

Guido  laughed.  "  Well,  no  !  but  these  fellows  would  like 
to  make  it  one — why,  they  will  pick  a  quarrel  for  the  mere 
lifting  of  an  eyebrow.  And  the  rest  of  your  company  ?  " 

"  Are  the  inseparable  brother  sculptors  Carlo  and  Francesco 
Respetti,  Chevalier  Mancini,  scientist  and  man  of  letters, 
Luziano  Salustri,  poet  and  musician,  and  the  fascinating 
Marchese  IppolitoGualdro,  whose  conversation,  as  you  know, 
is  more  entrancing  than  the  voice  of  Adelina  Patti.  I  have 
only  to  add,"  and  I  smiled  half  mockingly,  "  the  name  of  Sig- 
nor  Guido  Ferrari,  true  friend  and  loyal  lover — and  the  party 
is  complete." 

"  Altro  /  Fifteen  in  all  including  yourself,"  said  Ferrari, 
gayly,  enumerating  them  on  his  fingers.  "  Per  hi  madre  di 
Dio  /  With  such  a  goodly  company  and  a  host  who  enter- 
tains en  rot  we  shall  pass  a  merry  time  of  it.  And  did  you, 
amico,  actually  organize  this  banquet,  merely  to  welcome  back 
so  unworthy  a  person  as  myself  ?  " 

"  Solely  and  entirely  for  that  reason,"  I  replied. 

He  jumped  up  from  his  chair  and  clapped  his  two  hands 
on  my  shoulders. 

"  A  la  bonne  heure  f  But  why,  in  the  name  of  the  saints  or 
the  devil,  have  you  taken  such  a  fancy  to  me  ?  " 

"  Why  have  I  taken  such  a  fancy  to  you  ?  "  I  repeated,  slow- 
ly. "  My  dear  Ferrari,  I  am  surely  not  alone  in  my  admira- 
tion for  your  high  qualities  !  Does  not  every  one  like  you  ? 
Are  you  not  a  universal  favorite  ?  Do  you  not  tell  me  that 
your  late  friend  the  Count  Romani  held  you  as  the  dearest  to 
him  in  the  world  after  his  wife  ?  Ebbene  !  Why  underrate 
yourself  ? " 

He  let  his  hands  fall  slowly  from  my  shoulders  and  a  look 
of  pain  contracted  his  features.  After  a  little  silence  he  said  : 

"  Fabio  again  !  How  his  name  and  memory  haunt  me  !  I 
told  you  he  was  a  fool — it  was  part  of  his  folly  that  he  loved 
me  too  well — perhaps.  Do  you  know  I  have  thought  of  him 
very  much  lately  ?  " 

"  Indeed  ? "  and  I  feigned  to  be  absorbed  in  fixing  a  star- 
like  japonica  in  my  button-hole.  "  How  is  that  ?  " 

A  grave  and  meditative  look  softened  the  usually  defiant 
brilliancy  of  his  eyes. 

"I  saw  my  uncle  die,"  he  continued,  speaking  in  a  low 
tone.  "  He  was  an  old  man  and  had  very  little  strength  left, 
— yet  his  battle  with  death  was  horrible — horrible  !  I  see  him 
yet — his  yellow  convulsed  face — his  twisted  limbs — his  claw- 
iike  hands  tearing  at  the  ^mpty  air — then  the  ghastly  grim  and 


19*  I'ENDETlAt 

dropped  jaw — the  wide-open  glazed  eyes — pshaw  !  it  sickened 
me!" 

"  Well,  well !  "  I  said  in  a  soothing  way,  still  busying  my- 
self with  the  arrangement  of  my  button-hole,  and  secretly 
wondering  what  new  emotion  was  at  work  in  the  volatile 
mind  of  my  victim.  "  No  doubt  it  was  distressing  to  witness 
— but  you  could  not  have  been  very  sorry — he  was  an  old 
man,  and,  though  it  is  a  platitude  not  worth  repeating — we 
must  all  die." 

"  Sorry  !  "  exclaimed  Ferrari,  talking  almost  more  to  him- 
self than  to  me.  "  I  was  glad  !  He  was  an  old  scoundrel, 
deeply  dyed  in  every  sort  of  social  villainy.  No — I  was  not 
sorry,  only  as  I  watched  him  in  his  frantic  struggle,  fighting 
furiously  for  each  fresh  gasp  of  breath — I  thought — I  know 
not  why — of  Fabio." 

Profoundly  astonished,  but  concealing  my  astonishment 
under  an  air  of  indifference,  I  began  to  laugh. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Ferrari — pardon  me  for  saying  so,  but 
the  air  of  Rome  seems  to  have  somewhat  obscured  your 
mind  !  I  confess  I  cannot  follow  your  meaning." 

He  sighed  uneasily.  "  I  dare  say  not !  I  scarce  can 
follow  it  myself.  But  if  it  was  so  hard  for  an  old  man  to 
writhe  himself  out  of  life,  what  must  it  have  been  for  Fabic  . 
We  were  students  together ;  we  used  to  walk  with  our  arm 
round  each  other's  necks  like  school-girls,  and  he  was  young 
and  full  of  vitality — physically  stronger,  too,  than  I  am.  He 
must  have  battled  for  life  with  every  nerve  and  sinew  stretched 
to  almost  breaking."  He  stopped  and  shuddered.  "  By 
Heaven  !  death  should  be  made  easier  for  us  !  It  is  a  fright- 
ful thing !  " 

A  contemptuous  pity  arose  in  me.  Was  he  coward  as  well 
as  traitor  ?  I  touched  him  lightly  on  the  arm. 

"  Excuse  me,  my  young  friend,  if  I  say  frankly  that  your 
dismal  conversation  is  slightly  fatiguing.  I  cannot  accept  it 
as  a  suitable  preparation  for  dinner  !  And  permit  me  to  re- 
mind you  that  you  have  still  to  dress." 

The  gentle  satire  of  my  tone  made  him  look  up  and  smile. 
His  face  cleared,  and  he  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead, 
as  though  he  swept  it  free  of  some  unpleasant  thought. 

"  I  believe  I  am  nervous,"  he  said  with  a  half  laugh.  "  For 
the  last  few  hours  I  have  had  all  sorts  of  uncomfortable  pre- 
sentiments and  forebodings." 

"  No  wonder  1"  I  returned  carelessly,  "  with  such  a  spectacle 
as  you  have  described  before  the  eyes  of  your  memory.  The 


VENDETTA !  197 

Eternal  City  savors  somewhat  disagreeably  of  graves.  Shake 
the  dust  of  the  Caesars  from  your  feet,  and  enjoy  your  life, 
while  it  lasts  !  " 

"  Excellent  advice  !  "  he  said,  smiling,  "  and  not  difficult 
to  follow.  Now  to  attire  for  the  festival.  Have  I  your  per- 
mission ?  " 

I  touched  the  bell  which  summoned  Vincenzo,  and  bade 
him  wait  on  Signer  Ferrari's  orders.  Guido  disappeared 
under  his  escort,  giving  me  a  laughing  nod  of  salutation  as 
he  left  the  room.  I  watched  his  retiring  figure  with  a  strange 
pitifulness — the  first  emotion  of  the  kind  that  had  awakened 
in  me  for  him  since  I  learned  his  treachery.  His  allusion  to 
that  time  when  we  had  been  students  together — when  we 
had  walked  with  arms  round  each  other's  necks  "  like  school- 
girls," as  he  said,  had  touched  me  more  closely  than  I  cared 
to  realize.  It  was  true,  we  had  been  happy  then-  -two  care- 
less youths  with  all  the  world  like  an  untrodden  race-course 
before  us.  She  had  not  then  darkened  the  heaven  of  our 
confidence ;  she  had  not  come  with  her  false  fair  face  to 
make  of  me  a  blind,  doting  madman,  and  to  transform  him 
into  a  liar  and  hypocrite.  It  was  all  her  fault,  all  the  misery 
and  horror  ;  she  was  the  blight  on  our  lives  ;  she  merited  the 
heaviest  punishment,  and  she  would  receive  it.  Yet,  would 
to  God  we  had  neither  of  us  ever  seen  her !  Her  beauty, 
like  a  swor4.  had  severed  the  bonds  of  friendship  that  after 
all,  when  ;t  does  exist  between  two  men,  is  better  and  braver 
than  the  love  of  woman.  However,  all  regrets  were  unavail- 
ing now  •  the  evil  was  done,  and  there  was  no  undoing  it. 
I  had  little  time  left  me  for  reflection  ;  each  moment  that 
passed  brought  me  nearer  to  the  end  I  had  planned  and 
foreseen. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

AT  about  a  quarter  to  eight  my  guests  began  to  arrive,  and 
one  by  one  they  all  came  in  save  two — the  brothers  Respetti. 
While  we  were  awaiting  them,  Ferrari  entered  in  evening-dress, 
with  the  conscious  air  of  a  handsome  man  who  knows  he  is 
looking- his  best.  I  readily  admitted  his  charm  of  manner; 
had  I  not  myself  been  subjugated  and  fascinated  by  it  in  the 
old  happy,  foolish  days  ?  He  was  enthusiastically  greeted  and 
welcomed  back  to  Naples  by  all  the  gentlemen  assembled,, 
many  of  whom  were  his  own  particular  friends.  They  em- 


198  VENDETTA! 

braced  him  in  the  impressionable  style  common  to  Italians, 
with  the  exception  of  the  stately  Ducadi  Marina,  who  merely 
bowed  courteously,  and  inquired  if  certain  families  of  dis- 
tinction whom  he  named  had  yet  arrived  in  Rome  for  the 
winter  season.  Ferrari  was  engaged  in  replying  to  these 
questions  with  his  usual  grace  and  ease  and  fluency,  when  a 
note  was  brought  to  me  marked  "  Immediate."  It  contained 
a  profuse  and  elegantly  worded  apology  from  Carlo  Respetti, 
who  regretted  deeply  that  an  unforeseen  matter  of  business 
would  prevent  himself  and  his  brother  from  having  the  in- 
estimable honor  and  delight  of  dining  with  me  that  evening. 
I  thereupon  rang  my  bell  as  a  sign  that  the  dinner  need 
no  longer  be  delayed  ;  and,  turning  to  those  assembled,  I 
announced  to  them  the  unavoidable  absence  of  two  of  the 
party. 

"  A  pity  Francesco  could  not  have  come,"  said  Captain 
Freccia,  twirling  the  ends  of  his  long  mustachios.  "  He 
loves  good  wine,  and,  better  still,  good  company." 

"  Caro  Capitano  !  "  broke  in  the  musical  voice  of  the  Mar- 
chese  Gualduo,  "  you  know  that  our  Francesco  goes  nowhere 
without  his  beloved  Carlo.  Carlo  cannot  come — altro ! 
Francesco  will  not.  Would  that  all  men  were  such  brothers  !  " 

"If  they  were,"  laughed  Luziano  Salustri,  rising  from  the 
piano  where  he  had  been  playing  softly  to  himself,  "  half  the 
world  would  be  thrown  out  of  employment.  You,  for  in- 
stance," turning  to  the  Marquis  ]>Avencourt,  "would  scarce 
know  what  to  do  with  your  time." 

The  marquis  smiled  and  waved  his  hand  with  a  depreca- 
tory gesture — that  hand,  by  the  by,  was  remarkably  small 
and  delicately  formed — it  looked  almost  fragile.  Yet  the 
strength  and  suppleness  of  D'Avencourt's  wrist  was  reputed 
to  be  prodigious  by  those  who  had  seen  him  handle  the 
sword,  whether  in  play  or  grim  earnest. 

"  It  is  an  impossible  dream,"  he  said,  in  reply  to  the  re- 
marks of  Gualdro  and  Salustri,  "  that  idea  ot  all  men  frater- 
nizing together  in  one  common  pig-sty  of  equality.  Look  at 
the  differences  of  caste !  Birth,  breeding  and  education 
make  of  man  that  high-mettled,  sensitive  animal  known  as 
gentleman,  and  not  all  the  socialistic  theories  in  the  world  can 
force  him  down  on  the  same  level  with  the  rough  boor, 
whose  flat  nose  and  coarse  features  announce  him  as  plebeian 
even  before  one  hears  the  tone  of  his  voice.  We  cannot 
help  these  things.  I  do  not  think  we  would  help  them  evea 
if  we  could." 


VENDETTA!  199 

"You  are  quite  right,"  said  Ferrari.  "You  cannot  put 
race-horses  to  draw  the  plow.  I  have  always  imagined  that 
the  first  quarrel — the  Cain  and  Abel  affair — must  have  oc- 
curred through  some  difference  of  caste  as  well  as  jeal- 
ousy— for  instance,  perhaps  Abel  was  a  negro  and  Cain  a 
white  man,  or  vice  versa  ;  which  would  account  for  the  antip- 
athy existing  between  the  races  to  this  day." 

The  Duke  di  Marina  coughed  a  stately  cough,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  That  first  quarrel,"  he  said,  "as  related  in  the  Bible,  was 
exceedingly  vulgar.  It  must  have  been  a  kind  of  prize-fight. 
Cen'itait  pas  fin" 

Gualdro  laughed  delightedly. 

"  So  like  you,  Marina  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  to  say  that !  I 
sympathize  with  your  sentiments  !  Fancy  the  butcher  Abel 
piling  up  his  reeking  carcasses  and  setting  them  on  fire, 
while  on  the  other  side  stood  Cain  the  green-grocer  frizzling 
his  cabbages,  turnips,  carrots,  and  other  vegetable  matter  ! 
What  a  spectacle  !  The  gods  of  Olympus  would  have  sick- 
ened at  it !  However,  the  Jewish  Deity,  or  rather,  the  well- 
fed  priest  who  represented  him,  showed  his  good  taste  in  the 
matter ;  I  myself  prefer  the  smell  of  roast  meat  to  the  rather 
disagreeable  odor  of  scorching  vegetables  !  " 

We  laughed — and  at  that  moment  the  door  was  thrown 
open,  and  the  head-waiter  announced  in  solemn  tones  befit- 
ting his  dignity— 

"  Le  diner  de  Monsieur  le  Conte  est  servi ! " 

I  at  once  led  the  way  to  the  banqueting-room — my  guests 
followed  gayly,  talking  and  jesting  among  themselves.  They 
were  all  in  high  good  humor,  none  of  them  had  as  yet  noticed 
the  fatal  blank  caused  by  the  absence  of  the  brothers  Re- 
spetti.  I  had — for  the  number  of  my  guests  was  now  thirteen 
instead  of  fifteen.  Thirteen  at  table  !  I  wondered  if  any  of 
the  company  were  superstitious  ?  Ferrari  was  not,  I  knew — 
unless  his  nerves  had  been  latterly  shaken  by  witnessing  the 
death  of  his  uncle.  At  any  rate,  I  resolved  to  say  nothing 
that  could  attract  the  attention  of  my  guests  to  the  ill-omened 
circumstance  ;  if  any  one  should  notice  it,  it  would  be  easy  to 
make  light  of  it  and  of  all  similar  superstitions.  I  myself 
was  the  one  most  affected  by  it — it  had  for  me  a  curious  and 
fatal  significance.  I  was  so  occupied  with  the  consideration 
of  it  that  I  scarcely  attended  to  the  words  addressed  to  me 
by  the  Duke  di  Marina,  who,  walking  beside  me,  seemed  dis- 
posed to  converse  with  more  familiarity  than  was  his  usual 


200  VENDETTA ! 

custom.  We  reached  the  door  of  the  dining-room  ;  which  at 
our  approach  was  thrown  wide  open,  and  delicious  strains  of 
music  met  our  ears  as  we  entered.  Low  murmurs  of  aston- 
ishment and  admiration  broke  from  all  the  gentlemen  as 
they  viewed  the  sumptuous  scene  before  them.  I  pretended 
not  to  hear  their  eulogies,  as  I  took  my  seat  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  with  Guido  Ferrari  on  my  right  and  the  Duke  di 
Marina  on  my  left.  The  music  sounded  louder  and  more 
triumphant,  and  while  all  the  company  were  seating  them- 
selves in  the  places  assigned  to  them,  a  choir  of  young  fresh 
voices  broke  forth  into  a  Neapolitan  "  madrigale  " — which  as 
far  as  I  can  translate  it  ran  as  follows  : 

"  Welcome  the  festal  hour ! 
Pour  the  red  wine  into  cups  of  gold ! 
Health  to  the  men  who  are  strong  and  bold  I 

Welcome  the  festal  hour  ! 
Waken  the  echoes  with  riotous  mirth — 
Cease  to  remember  the  sorrows  of  earth 

In  the  joys  of  the  festal  hour  ! 
Wine  is  the  monarch  of  laughter  and  light, 
Death  himself  shall  be  merry  to-night ! 

Hail  to  the  festal  hour  !  " 

An  enthusiastic  clapping  of  hands  rewarded  this  effort  on 
the  part  of  the  unseen  vocalists,  and  the  music  having  ceased, 
conversation  became  general. 

"  By  heaven  !  "  exclaimed  Ferrari,  "  if  this  Olympian 
carouse  is  meant  as  a  welcome  to  me,  amico,  all  I  can  say  is 
that  I  do  not  deserve  it.  Why,  it  is  more  fit  for  the  welcome 
of  one  king  to  his  neighbor  sovereign  ! " 

"JEbbenef"  I  said.  "Are  there  any  better  kings  than 
honest  men  ?  Let  us  hope  we  are  thus  far  worthy  of  each 
other's  esteem." 

He  flashed  a  bright  look  of  gratitude  upon  me  and  was 
silent,  listening  to  the  choice  and  complimentary  phrases 
uttered  by  the  Duke  di  Marina  concerning  the  exquisite  taste 
displayed  in  the  arrangement  of  the  table. 

"  You  have  no  doubt  traveled  much  in  the  East,  conte," 
said  this  nobleman.  "  Your  banquet  reminds  me  of  an 
Oriental  romance  I  once  read,  called  *  Vathek.'  " 

"  Exactly  !  "  exclaimed  Guido,  "  I  think  Oliva  must  be 
Vathek  himself ! " 

"  Scarcely  !  "  I  said,  smiling  coldly.  "  I  lay  no  claim  to 
supernatural  experiences.  The  realities  of  life  are  sufficient- 
ly wonderful  for  me." 


VEND ETTA  I  201 

Antonio  Biscardi  the  painter,  a  refined,  gentle-featured 
man,  looked  toward  us  and  said  modestly  : 

"  I  think  you  are  right,  conte.  The  beauties  of  nature 
and  of  humanity  are  so  varied  and  profound  that  were  it  not 
for  the  inextinguishable  longing  after  immortality  which  has 
been  placed  in  every  one  of  us,  I  think  we  should  be  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  this  world  as  it  is." 

"  You  speak  like  an  artist  and  a  man  of  even  tempera- 
ment," broke  in  the  Marchese  Gualdro,  who  bad  finished  his 
soup  quickly  in  order  to  be  able  to  talk — talking  being  his 
chief  delight.  "  For  me,  I  am  never  contented.  I  never 
have  enough  of  anything !  That  is  my  nature.  When  I  see 
lovely  flowers,  I  wish  more  of  them — when  I  behold  a  fine 
sunset,  I  desire  many  more  such  sunsets — when  I  look  upon 
a  lovely  woman " 

"  You  would  have  lovely  women  ad  infinitum  /  "  laughed  the 
French  Capitaine  de  Harnal.  "jEn  verite,  Gualdrn,  you 
should  have  been  a  Turk  T '"' 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  aerranded  Gualdro.  "  The  Turks  are 
very  sensible  people — they  know  how  to  make  coffee  better 
than  we  do.  And  what  more  fascinating  than  a  harem  ?  .It 
must  be  like  a  fragrant  icct-house,  where  one  is  free  to  wander 
every  day,  sometimes  gathering  a  gorgeous  lily,  sometimes  a- 
simple  violet — sometimes " 

"  A  thorn  ?  "  suggested  Salustri. 

"  Well,  perhaps  !  "  laughed  the  Marchese.  "  Yet  on* 
would  run  the  risk  of  that  for  the  sake  of  a  perfect  rose." 

Chevalier  Mancini,  who  wore  in  his  button-hole  the  decora- 
tion of  the  Legion  d'Honneur,  looked  up — he  was  a  thin  man 
with  keen  eyes  and  a  shrewd  face  which,  though  at  a  first 
glance  appeared  stern,  could  at  the  least  provocation  break 
up  into  a  thousand  little  wrinkles  of  laughter. 

"  There  is  undoubtedly  something  entrainan*  about  the 
idea,"  he  observed,  in  his  methodical  way.  "  I  have  always 
fancied  that  marriage  as  we  arrange  it  is  a  great  mistake." 

"And  that  is  why  you  have  never  tried  it?"  queried 
Feirari,  looking  amused. 

"  Certissimamente  !  "  and  the  chevalier's  grim  countenance 
began  to  work  with  satirical  humor.  "  I  have  resolved  that 
I  will  never  be  bound  over  by  the  law  to  kiss  only  one  woman, 
As  matters  stand,  I  can  kiss  them  all  if  I  like." 

A  shout  of  merriment  and  cries  of  "  Oh  !  oh  !  "  greeted  this 
remark,  which  Ferrari,  hovjver,  did  not  seem  inclined 
in  good  part. 


*02  VENDETTA! 

"  All  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  dubious  air.  "  You  mean  all  ex- 
cept the  married  ones  ?  " 

The  chevalier  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  surveyed  him  with 
a  sort  of  comic  severity. 

"  When  I  said  all,  I  meant  all,"  he  returned— "  the  married 
ones  in  particular.  They,  poor  things,  need  such  attentions 
— and  often  invite  them — why  not  ?  Their  husbands  have 
most  likely  ceased  to  be  amorous  after  the  first  months  of 
marriage." 

I  burst  out  laughing.  "  You  are  right,  Mancini,"  I  said  ; 
"  and  even  if  the  husbands  are  fools  enough  to  continue  their 
gallantries  they  deserve  to  be  duped — and  they  generally 
are!  Come,  amico  /"  I  added,  turning  to  Ferrari,  "those 
are  your  own  sentiments — you  have  often  declared  them  to 
me." 

He  smiled  uncomfortably,  and  his  brows  contracted.  I 
could  easily  perceive  that  he  was  annoyed.  To  change  the 
tone  of  the  conversation  I  gave  a  signal  for  the  music  to 
recommence,  and  instantly  the  melody  of  a  slow,  voluptuous 
Hungarian  waltz-measure  floated  through  the  room.  The 
dinner  was  now  fairly  on  its  way  ;  the  appetites  of  my  guests 
were  stimulated  and  tempted  by  the  choicest  and  most  savory 
viands,  prepared  with  all  the  taste  and  intelligence  a  first-rate 
<://£/"  can  bestow  on  his  work,  and  good  wine  flowed  freely. 

Vincenzo  obediently  following  my  instructions,  stood  be- 
hind my  chair,  and  seldom  moved  except  to  refill  Ferrari's 
glass,  and  occasionally  to  proffer  some  fresh  vintage  to  the 
Duke  di  Marina.  He,  however,  was  an  abstemious  and  care- 
ful man,  and  followed  the  good  example  shown  by  the  wisest 
Italians,  who  never  mix  their  wines.  He  remained  faithful 
to  the  first  beverage  he  had  selected — a  specially  fine  Chianti, 
of  which  he  partook  freely  without  its  causing  the  slightest 
flush  to  appear  on  his  pale  aristocratic  features.  Its  warm 
and  mellow  flavor  did  but  brighten  his  eyes  and  loosen  his 
tongue,  inasmuch  that  he  became  almost  as  elegant  a  talker 
as  the  Marchese  Gualdro.  This  latter,  who  scarce  had  a  scudo 
to  call  his  own,  and  who  dined  sumptuously  every  day  at 
other  people's  expense  for  the  sake  of  the  pleasure  his  com- 
pany afforded,  was  by  this  time  entertaining  every  one  near 
him  by  the  most  sparkling  stories  and  witty  pleasantries. 

The  merriment  increased  as  the  various  courses  were 
served  ;  shouts  of  laughter  frequently  interrupted  the  loud 
buzz  of  conversation,  mingling  with  the  clinking  of  glasses 
and  clattering  of  porcelain.  Every  now  and  then  might  be 


VENDETTA!  203 

heard  the  smooth  voice  of  Captain  Freccia  rolling  out  his 
favorite  oaths  with  the  sonority  and  expression  of  a  primo 
tenor e ;  sometimes  the  elegant  French  of  the  Marquis  D'Aven- 
court,  with  his  high,  sing-song  Parisian  accent,  rang  out  above 
the  voices  of  the  others  ;  and  again,  the  choice  Tuscan  of  the 
poet  Luziano  Salustri  rolled  forth  in  melodious  cadence  as 
though  he  were  chanting  lines  from  Dante  or  Ariosto,  instead 
of  talking  lightly  on  indifferent  matters.  I  accepted  my  share 
in  the  universal  hilarity,  thongh  I  principally  divided  my  con- 
versation between  Ferrari  and  the  duke,  paying  to  both,  but 
specially  to  Ferrari,  that  absolute  attention  which  is  the 
greatest  compliment  a  host  can  bestow  on  those  whom  he 
undertakes  to  entertain. 

We  had  reached  that  stage  of  the  banquet  when  the  game  was 
about  to  be  served — the  invisible  choir  of  boys'  voices  had  just 
completed  an  enchanting  stornello  with  an  accompaniment 
of  mandolines — when  a  stillness,  strange  and  unaccountable, 
fell  upon  the  company — a  pause — an  ominous  hush,  as  though 
some  person  supreme  in  authority  had  suddenly  entered  the 
room  and  commanded  "  Silence  !  "  No  one  seemed  disposed 
to  speak  or  to  move,  the  very  footsteps  of  the  waiters  were 
muffled  in  the  velvet  pile  of  the  carpets — no  sound  was  heard 
but  the  measured  plash  of  the  fountain  that  played  among 
the  ferns  and  flowers.  The  moon,  shining  frostily  white 
through  the  one  uncurtained  window,  cast  a  long  pale  green 
ray,  like  the  extended  arm  of  an  appealing  ghost,  against  one 
side  of  the  velvet  hangings — a  spectral  effect  which  was 
heightened  by  the  contrast  of  the  garish  glitter  of  the  waxen 
tapers.  Each  man  looked  at  the  other  with  a  sort  of  uncom- 
fortable embarrassment,  and  somehow,  though  I  moved  my 
lips  in  an  endeavor  to  speak  and  thus  break  the  spell,  I  was 
at  a  loss,  and  could  find  no  language  suitable  to  the  moment. 
Ferrari  toyed  with  his  wine-glass  mechanically — the  duke 
appeared  absorbed  in  arranging  the  crumbs  beside  his  plate 
into  little  methodical  patterns  ;  the  stillness  seemed  to  last 
so  long  that  it  was  like  a  suffocating  heaviness  in  the  air. 
Suddenly  Vincenzo,  in  his  office  of  chief  butler,  drew  the  cork 
of  a  champagne-bottle  with  a  loud-sounding  pop  !  We  all 
started  as  though  a  pistol  had  been  fired  in  our  ears,  and 
the  Marchese  Gualdro  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Corpo  di  Baceo  /"  he  cried.  "  At  last  you  have  awakened 
from  sleep  !  Were  you  all  struck  dumb,  amici,  that  you 
stared  at  the  table-cloth  so  persistently  and  with  such  admi- 
rable gravity?  May  Saint  Anthony  and  his  pig  preserve  me, 


204  VENDETTA ! 

but  for  the  time  I  fancied  I  was  attending  a  banquet  on  the 
.wrong  side  of  the  Styx,  and  that  you,  my  present  companions, 
were  all  dead  men !  " 

"  And  that  idea  made  you  also  hold  your  tongue,  which  is 
quite  an  unaccountable  miracle  in  its  way,"  laughed  Luziano 
Salustri.  "  Have  you  never  heard  the  pretty  legend  that 
attaches  to  such  an  occurrence  as  a  sudden  silence  in  the  midst 
of  high  festivity  ?  An  angel  enters,  bestowing  his  benedic- 
tion as  he  passes  through." 

"  That  story  is  more  ancient  than  the  church,"  said  Cheva- 
lier Mancini.  "  It  is  an  exploded  theory — for  we  have  ceased 
to  believe  in  angels — we  call  them  women  instead." 

"Bravo,  man  vieux  gaillard ! "  cried  Captain  de  Hamal. 
"  Your  sentiments  are  the  same  as  mine,  with  a  very  trifling 
difference.  You  believe  women  to  be  angels — I  know  them 
to  be  devils — mas  il rfy  agu'un pas  entre  les  deux?  We  will 
not  quarrel  over  a  word — a  votre  sante,  mon  cher  /" 

And  he  drained  his  glass,  nodding  to  Mancini,  who  fol- 
lowed his  example. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  smooth,  slow  voice  of  Captain  Fr^c- 
cia,  "  our  silence  was  caused  by  the  instinctive  conscious- 
ness of  something  wrong  with  our  party — a  little  inequality 
— which  I  dare  say  our  noble  host  has  not  thought  it  worth 
while  to  mention." 

Every  head  was  turned  in  his  direction.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ? "  "  What  inequality  ?  "  "  Explain  yourself  !  "chorused 
several  voices. 

"  Really  it  is  a  mere  nothing,"  answered  Freccia,  lazily, 
as  he  surveyed  with  the  admiring  air  of  a  gourmet  the  dainty 
portion  of  pheasant  just  placed  before  him.  "  I  assure  you, 
only  the  uneducated  would  care  two  scudi  about  such  a  cir- 
cumstance. The  excellent  brothers  Respetti  are  to  blame — 
their  absence  to-night  has  caused — but  why  should  I  disturb 
your  equanimity  ?  /  am  not  superstitious — ma,  chi  sa  ? — 
some  of  you  may  be." 

"  I  see  what  you  mean  ! "  interrupted  Salustri,  quickly. 
"  We  are  thirteen  at  table  !  " 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

AT  this  announcement  my  guests  looked  furtively  at  each 
other,  and  I  could  see  they  were  counting  up  the  fatal  num- 
^r  for  themselves.  They  were  undeniably  clever,  cultivated 


VENDETTA!  205 

men  of  the  world,  but  the  superstitious  element  was  in  their 
blood,  and  all,  with  the  exception  perhaps  of  Freccia  and  the 
ever-cool  Marquis  D'Avencourt,  were  evidently  rendered  un- 
easy by  the  fact  now  discovered.  On  Ferrari  it  had  a  curi- 
ous effect — he  started  violently  and  his  face  flushed.  "  JDia- 
volo  /"  he  muttered,  under  his  breath,  and  seizing  his  never- 
empty  glass,  he  swallowed  its  contents  thirstily  and  quickly 
at  one  gulp  as  though  attacked  by  fever,  and  pushed  away 
his  plate  with  a  hand  that  trembled  nervously.  I,  mean 
while,  raised  my  voice  and  addressed  my  guests  cheerfully ! 
"  Our  distinguished  friend  Salustri  is  perfectly  right,  gen- 
tlemen. I  myself  noticed  the  discrepancy  in  our  number 
some  time  ago — but  I  knew  that  you  were  all  advanced  think- 
ers, who  had  long  since  liberated  yourselves  from  the  tram- 
mels .of  superstitious  observances,  which  are  the  result  of 
priestcraft,  and  are  now  left  solely  to  the  vulgar.  Therefore 
I  said  nothing.  The  silly  notion  of  any  misfortune  attend- 
ing the  number  thirteen  arose,  as  you  are  aware,  out  of  the 
story  of  the  Last  Supper,  and  children  and  women  may  pos- 
sibly still  give  credence  to  the  fancy  that  one  out  of  thirteen 
at  table  must  be  a  traitor  and  doomed  to  die.  But  we  men 
know  better.  None  of  us  here  to-night  have  reason  to  put 
ourselves  in  the  position  of  a  Christ  or  a  Judas — we  are  all 
good  friends  and  boon  companions,  and  I  cannot  suppose 
for  a  moment  that  this  little  cloud  can  possibly  affect  you 
seriously.  Remember  also  that  this  is  Christmas-eve,  and 
that  according  to  the  world's  greatest  poet,  Shakespeare, 

" « Then  no  planet  strikes, 

No  fairy  takes,  nor  witch  hath  power  to  charm, 
So  hallowed  and  so  gracious  is  the  time.'  " 

A  murmur  of  applause  and  a  hearty  clapping  of  hands  re-- 
warded this  little  speech,  and  the  Marchese  Gualdro  sprung 
to  his  feet — 

"  By  Heaven  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  we  are  not  a  party  of  ter- 
rified old  women  to  shiver  on  the  edge  of  a  worn-out  omen  ! 
Fill  your  glasses,  signori  /  More  wine,  garden  !  Per  bacco  ! 
if  Judas  Iscariot  himself  had  such  a  feast  as  ours  before  he 
hanged  himself,  he  was  not  much  to  be  pitied  !  Hola  amicil 
To  the  health  of  our  noble  host,  Conte  Cesare  Oliva !  " 

He  waved  his  glass  in  the  air  three  times — every  one  fol- 
lowed his  example  and  drank  the  toast  with  enthusiasm.  I 
bowed  my  thanks  and  acknowledgments — and  the  supersti- 
tious dread  which  at  first  had  undoubtedly  seized  the  com- 


2o6  VENDETTA! 

pany  passed  away  quickly — the  talking,  the  merriment,  and 
laughter  were  resumed,  and  soon  it  seemed  as  though  the 
untoward  circumstance  were  entirely  forgotten.  Only  Guido 
Ferrari  seemed  still  somewhat  disturbed  in  his  mind — but 
even  his  uneasiness  dissipated  itself  by  degrees,  and  heated 
by  the  quantity  of  wine  he  had  taken,  he  began  to  talk  with 
boastful  braggartism  of  his  many  successful  gallantries,  and 
related  his  most  questionable  anecdotes  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  cause  some  haughty  astonishment  in  the  mind  of  the  Duke 
di  Marina,  who  eyed  him  from  time  to  time  with  ill-disguised 
impatience  that  bordered  on  contempt.  I,  on  the  contrary, 
listened  to  everything  he  said  with  urbane  courtesy — I  hu- 
mored him  and  drew  him  out  as  much  as  possible — I  smiled 
complacently  at  his  poor  jokes  and  vulgar  witticisms — and 
when  he  said  something  that  was  more  than  usually  outrage- 
ous, I  contented  myself  with  a  benevolent  shake  of  my  head, 
and  the  mild  remark  : 

"  Ah  !  young  blood  !  young  blood  !  "  uttered  in  a  bland 
sotto-voce. 

The  dessert  was  now  served,  and  with  it  came  the  costly 
wines  which  I  had  ordered  to  be  kept  back  till  then.  Price- 
less "  Chateau  Yquem,"  "  Clos  Vougeot,"  of  the  rarest  vin- 
tages, choice  "  Valpulcello "  and  an  exceedingly  superb 
"  Lacrima  Cristi  " — one  after  the  other,  these  were  tasted, 
criticised,  and  heartily  appreciated.  There  was  also  a  very 
unique  brand  of  champagne  costing  nearly  forty  francs  a 
bottle,  which  was  sparkling  and  mellow  to  the  palate,  but 
fiery  in  quality.  This  particular  beverage  was  so  seductive 
in  flavor  that  every  one  partook  of  it  freely,  with  the  result 
that  the  most  discreet  among  the  party  now  became  the  most 
uproarious,  Antonio  Biscardi,  the  quiet  and  unobtrusive 
painter,  together  with  his  fellow-student,  Crispiano  Dulci, 
usually  the  shyest  of  young  men,  suddenly  grew  excited,  and 
uttered  blatant  nothings  concerning  their  art.  Captain 
Freccia  argued  the  niceties  of  sword-play  with  the  Marquis 
D'Avencourt,  both  speakers  illustrating  their  various  points 
by  thrusting  their  dessert-knives  skillfully  into  the  pulpy 
bodies  of  the  peaches  they  had  on  their  plates.  Luziano 
Salustri  lay  back  at  ease  in  his  chair,  his  classic  head  reclin- 
ing on  the  velvet  cushions,  and  recited  in  low  and  measured 
tones  one  of  his  own  poems,  caring  little  or  nothing  whether 
his  neighbors  attended  to  him  or  not.  The  glib  tongue  of 
the  Marchese  Gualdro  ran  on  smoothly  and  incessantly, 
though  he  frequently  lost  the  thread  of  his  anecdotes  and  be- 


VENDETTA! 


407 


came  involved  in  a  maze  of  contradictory  assertions.  The 
rather  large  nose  of  the  Chevalier  Mancini  reddened  visibly 
as  he  laughed  joyously  to  himself  at  nothing  in  particular — 
in  short,  the  table  had  become  a  glittering  whirlpool  of  ex- 
citement and  feverish  folly,  which  at  a  mere  touch,  or  word 
out  of  season,  might  rise  to  a  raging  storm  of  frothy  dissen- 
sion. The  Duke  di  Marina  and  myself  alone  of  aH  the  com- 
pany were  composed  as  usual — he  had  resisted  the  champagne, 
and  as  for  me,  I  had  let  all  the  splendid  wines  go  past  me, 
and  had  not  taken  more  than  two  glasses  of  a  mild  Chianti. 

I  glanced  keenly  round  the  riotous  board — I  noted  the 
flushed  faces  and  rapid  gesticulations  of  my  guests,  and 
listened  to  the  Babel  of  conflicting  tongues.  I  drew  a  long 
breath  as  I  looked — I  calculated  that  in  two  or  three  minutes 
at  the  very  least  I  might  throw  down  the  trump  card  I  had 
held  so  patiently  in  my  hand  all  the  evening. 

I  took  a  close  observation  of  Ferrari.  He  had  edged  his 
chair  a  little  away  from  mine,  and  was  talking  confidentially 
to  his  neighbor,  Captain  de  Hamal — his  utterance  was  low 
and  thick,  but  yet  I  distinctly  heard  him  enumerating  in 
somewhat  coarse  language  the  exterior  charms  of  a  woman — 
what  woman  I  did  not  stop  to  consider — the  burning  idea 
struck  me  that  he  was  describing  the  physical  perfections  of 
my  wife  to  this  De  Hamal,  a  mere  spadaccino,  for  whom  there 
was  nothing  sacred  in  heaven  or  earth.  My  blood  rapid- 
ly heated  itself  to  boiling  point — to  this  day  I  remember  how 
it  throbbed  in  my  temples,  leaving  my  hands  and  feet  icy 
cold.  I  rose  in  my  seat,  and  tapped  on  the  table  to  call  for 
silence  and  attention — but  for  some  time  the  noise  of  argu- 
ment and  the  clatter  of  tongues  were  so  great  that  I  could 
not  make  myself  heard.  The  duke  endeavored  to  second  my 
efforts,  but  in  vain.  At  last  Ferrari's  notice  was  attracted — 
he  turned  round,  and  seizing  a  dessert  knife  beat  with  it  on 
the  table  and  on  his  own  plate  so  noisily  and  persistently 
that  the  loud  laughter  and  conversation  ceased  suddenly. 
The  moment  had  come — I  raised  my  head,  fixed  my  spec- 
tacles more  firmly  over  my  eyes,  and  spoke  in  distinct  and 
steady  tones,  first  of  all  stealing  a  covert  glance  toward 
Ferrari.  He  had  sunk  back  again  lazily  in  his  chair  and 
was  lighting  a  cigarette. 

"  My  friends,"  I  said,  meeting  with  a  smile  the  inquiring 
looks  that  were  directed  toward  me,  "  I  have  presumed  to 
interrupt  your  mirth  for  a  moment,  not  to  restrain  it,  but 
rather  to  give  it  a  fresh  impetus.  I  asked  you  all  here  to- 


ao8  VENDETTA  / 

night,  as  you  know,  to  honor  me  by  your  presence  and  t« 
give  a  welcome  to  our  mutual  friend,  Signor  Guido  Ferrari." 
Here  I  was  interrupted  by  a  loud  clapping  of  hands  and 
ejaculations  of  approval,  while  Ferrari  himself  murmured 
affably  between  two  puffs  of  his  cigarette.  "  Tropp'  onore, 
amico,  tropp'  onore /"  I  resumed,  "This  young  and  accom- 
plished gentleman,  who  is,  I  believe,  a  favorite  with  you  all, 
has  been  compelled  through  domestic  affairs  to  absent  him- 
self from  our  circle  for  the  past  few  weeks,  and  I  think  he 
must  himself  be  aware  how  much  we  have  missed  his  pleas- 
ant company.  It  will,  however,  be  agreeable  to  you,  as  it 
has  been  for  me,  to  know  that  he  has  returned  to  Naples  a 
richer  man  than  when  he  left  it — that  fortune  has  done  him 
justice,  and  that  with  the  possession  of  abundant  wealth 
he  is  at  last  called  upon  to  enjoy  the  reward  due  to  his 
merits  ! " 

Here  there  was  more  clapping  of  hands  and  exclamations 
of  pleasure,  while  those  who  were  seated  near  Ferrari  raised 
their  glasses  and  drank  to  his  health  with  congratulations,  all 
of  which  courtesies  he  acknowledged  by  a  nonchalant,  self- 
satisfied  bow.  I  glanced  at  him  again — how  tranquil  he 
looked ! — reclining  among  the  crimson  cushions  of  his  chair, 
a  brimming  glass  of  champagne  beside  him,  the  cigarette  be- 
tween his  lips,  and  his  handsome  face  slightly  upturned, 
though  his  eyes  rested  half  drowsily  on  the  uncurtained 
window  through  which  the  Bay  of  Naples  was  seen  glittering 
in  the  moonlight. 

I  continued  :  "  It  was,  gentlemen,  that  you  might  welcome 
and  congratulate  Signor  Ferrari  as  you  have  done,  that  I  as- 
sembled you  here  to-night — or  rather,  let  me  say  it  was 
partly  the  object  of  our  present  festivity — but  there  is  yet 
another  reason  which  I  shall  now  have  the  pleasure  of  ex- 
plaining to  you — a  reason  which,  as  it  concerns  myself  and 
my  immediate  happiness,  will,  I  feel  confident,  secure  your 
sympathy  and  good  wishes." 

This  time  every  one  was  silent,  intently  following  my  words. 

"  What  I  am  about  to  say,"  I  went  on,  calmly,  "  may  very 
possibly  surprise  you.  I  have  been  known  to  you  as  a  man 
of  few  words,  and,  I  fear,  of  abrupt  and  brusque  manners  " — 
cries  of  "  No,  no  !  "  mingled  with  various  complimentary  as- 
surances reached  my  ears  from  all  sides  of  the  table.  I 
bowed  with  a  gratified  air,  and  when  silence  was  restored — 
"At  any  rate  you  would  not  think  me  precisely  the  sort  of  man 
fco  take  a  lady's  fancy."  A  look  of  wonder  and  curiosity  was 


VENDETTA  i  209 

now  exchanged  among  my  guests.  Ferrari  took  his  cigarette 
out  of  his  mouth  and  stared  at  me  in  blank  astonishment. 

"  No,"  I  went  on,  meditatively,  "  old  as  I  am,  and  a  half- 
blind  invalid  besides,  it  seems  incredible  that  any  woman 
should  care  to  look  at  me  more  than  twice  en  passant.  But 
I  have  met — let  me  say  with  the  Chevalier  Mancini — an  angel 
— who  has  found  me  not  displeasing  to  her,  and — in  short — 
I  am  going  to  marry  !  " 

There  was  a  pause.  Ferrari  raised  himself  slightly  from 
his  reclining  position  and  seemed  about  to  speak,  but  ap- 
parently changing  his  mind  he  remained  silent — his  face  had 
somewhat  paled.  The  momentary  hesitation  among  my 
guests  passed  quickly.  All  present,  except  Guido,  broke  out 
into  a  chorus  of  congratulations,  mingled  with  good-humored 
jesting  and  laughter. 

"  Say  farewell  to  jollity,  conte  !  "  cried  Chevalier  Mancini ; 
"once  drawn  along  by  the  rustling  music  of  a  woman's  gown, 
no  more  such  feasts  as  we  have  had  to-night !" 

And  he  shook  his  head  with  tipsy  melancholy. 

"  By  all  the  gods  !  "  exclaimed  Gualdro,  "  your  news  has 
surprised  me  !  I  should  have  thought  you  were  the  last  man 
to  give  up  liberty  for  the  sake  of  a  woman.  One  woman,  too  ! 
Why,  man,  freedom  could  give  you  twenty  ! " 

"  Ah  !  "  murmured  Salustri,  softly  and  sentimentally,  "  but 
the  one  perfect  pearl — the  one  flawless  diamond " 

"  Bah  !  Salustri,  caro  mio,  you  are  half  asleep  !  "  returned 
Gualdro.  "  'Tis  the  wine  talks,  not  you.  Thou  art  con- 
quered by  the  bottle,  amico.  You,  the  darling  of  all  the 
women  in  Naples,  to  talk  of  one!  Buona  notte,  bambino  /" 

I  still  maintained  my  standing  position,  leaning  my  two 
hands  on  the  table  before  me. 

"  What  our  worthy  Gualdro  says,"  I  went  on,  "  is  perfectly 
true.  I  have  been  noted  for  my  antipathy  to  the  fair  sex.  I 
know  it.  But  when  one  of  the  loveliest  among  women  comes 
out  of  her  way  to  tempt  me — when  she  herself  displays  the 
matchless  store  of  her  countless  fascinations  for  my  attrac- 
tion— when  she  honors  me  by  special  favors  and  makes  me 
plainly  aware  that  I  am  not  too  presumptuous  in  venturing  to 
aspire  to  her  hand  in  marriage — what  can  I  do  but  accept  with 
a  good  grace  the  fortune  thrown  to  me  by  Providence  ?  1 
should  be  the  most  ungrateful  of  men  were  I  to  refuse  so 
precious  a  gift  from  Heaven,  and  I  confess  I  feel  no  inclina- 
tion to  reject  what  I  consider  to  be  the  certainty  of  happi- 
ness. I  therefore  ask  you  all  to  fill  your  glasses,  and  do  me 
14 


VENDETTA! 

the  favor  to  drink  to  the  health  and  happiness  of  my  future 
bride/' 

Gualdro  sprung  erect,  his  glass  held  high  in  the  air  ;  every 
man  followed  his  example.  Ferrari  rose  to  his  feet  with 
some  unsteadiness,  while  the  hand  that  held  his  full  cham- 
pagne glass  trembled. 

The  Duke  di  Marina,  with  a  courteous  gesture,  addressed 
me  :  "  You  will,  of  course,  honor  us  by  disclosing  the  name 
of  the  fair  lady  whom  we  are  prepared  to  toast  with  all  be- 
fitting reverence  ?  " 

"  I  was  about  to  ask  the  same  question,"  said  Ferrari,  in 
hoarse  accents — his  lips  were  dry,  and  he  appeared  to  have 
some  difficulty  in  speaking.  "  Possibly  we  are  not  acquainted 
with  her  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,"  I  returned,  eying  him  steadily  with  a 
cool  smile.  "  You  all  know  her  name  well !  Jllustrissimi 
Signori  /"  and  my  voice  rang  out  clearly — to  the  health  of 
my  betrothed  wife,  the  Contessa  Romani!" 

"  Liar  !  "  shouted  Ferrari — and  with  all  a  madman's  fury 
he  dashed  his  brimming  glass  of  champagne  full  in  my  face  ! 
In  a  second  the  wildest  scene  of  confusion  ensued.  Every 
man  left  his  place  at  table  and  surrounded  us.  I  stood  erect 
and  perfectly  calm — wiping  with  my  handkerchief  the  little 
runlets  of  wine  that  dripped  from  my  clothing — the  glass  had 
fallen  at  my  feet,  striking  the  table  as  it  fell  and  splitting 
itself  to  atoms. 

"Are  you  drunk  or  mad,  Ferrari  ?  "  cried  Captain  de  Hamal, 
seizing  him  by  the  arm — "  do  you  know  what  you  have  done  ? " 

Ferrari  glared  about  him  like  a  tiger  at  bay — his  face  was 
flushed  and  swollen  like  that  of  a  man  in  apoplexy — the 
veins  in  his  forehead  stood  out  like  knotted  cords — his  breath 
came  and  went  hard  as  though  he  had  been  running.  He 
turned  his  rolling  eyes  upon  me.  "  Damn  you  !  "  he  muttered 
through  his  clinched  teeth — then  suddenly  raising  his  voice 
to  a  positive  shriek,  he  cried,  "  I  will  have  your  blood  if  I 
have  to  tear  your  heart  for  it !  " — and  he  made  an  effort  to 
spring  upon  me.  The  Marquis  D'Avencourt  quietly  caught 
his  other  arm  and  held  it  as  in  a  vise. 

"Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast,  mon  cher /"  he  said,  coolly. 
"  We  are  not  murderers,  we  !  What  devil  possesses  you, 
that  you  offer  such  unwarrantable  insult  to  our  host  ?  " 

"Ask  him!"  replied  Ferrari,  fiercely,  struggling  to  release 
himself  from  the  grasp  of  the  two  Frenchmen — "  he  knows 
well  enough  !  Ask  him  /  " 


VENDETTA!  2  it 

All  eyes  were  turned  inquiringly  upon  me.     I  was  silent. 

"The  noble  conte  is  really  not  bound  to  give  any  explana- 
tion," remarked  Captain  Freccia — "  even  admitting  he  were 
able  to  do  so." 

"  I  assure  you,  my  friends,"  I  said,  "  I  am  ignorant  of  the 
cause  of  this  fracas,  except  that  this  young  gentleman  had 
pretensions  himself  to  the  hand  of  the  lady  whose  name 
affects  him  so  seriously  !  " 

For  a  moment  I  thought  Ferrari  would  have  choked. 

"  Pretensions — pretensions  !  "  he  gasped.  "  Gran  Dio  ! 
Hear  him  ! — hear  the  miserable  scoundrel !  " 

"Ah,  basta!"  exclaimed  Chevalier  Mancini,  scornfully — 
"  Is  that  all  ?  A  mere  bagatelle  f  Ferrari,  you  were  wont  to 
be  more  sensible  !  What !  quarrel  with  an  excellent  friend 
for  the  sake  of  a  woman  who  happens  to  prefer  him  to  you  ! 
Ma  che  !  Women  are  plentiful — friends  are  few." 

"  If,"  I  resunted,  still  methodically  wiping  the  stains  of 
wine  from  my  coat  and  vest — "  if  Signer  Ferrari's  extraordi- 
nary display  of  temper  is  a  mere  outcome  of  natural  disap- 
pointment, I  am  willing  to  excuse  it.  He  is  young  and  hot- 
blooded — let  him  apologize,  and  I  shall  freely  pardon 
him." 

"  By  my  faith  ! "  said  the  Duke  di  Marina  with  indignation, 
"  such  generosity  is  unheard  of,  conte  !  Permit  me  to  re- 
mark that  it  is  altogether  exceptional,  after  such  ungentle- 
manly  conduct." 

Ferrari  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  silent  fury.  His 
face  had  grown  pale  as  death.  He  wrenched  himself  from 
the  grasp  of  D'Avencourt  and  De  Hamal. 

"  Fools  !  let  me  go  !  "  he  said,  savagely.  "  None  of  you 
are  on  my  side — I  see  that !  "  He  stepped  to  the  table, 
poured  out  a  glass  of  water  and  drank  it  off.  He  then  turned 
and  faced  me — his  head  thrown  back,  his  eyes  blazing  with 
wrath  and  pain. 

"  Liar  ! "  he  cried  again,  "  double-faced  accursed  liar ! 
You  have  stolen  her — you  have  fooled  me — but,  by  G — d, 
you  shall  pay  for  it  with  your  life  !  " 

"  Willingly  !  "  I  said,  with  a  mocking  smile,  restraining  by 
a  gestifre  the  hasty  exclamations  of  those  around  me  who  re- 
sented this  fresh  attack — "most  willingly,  caro  signer  !  But 
excuse  me  if  I  fail  to  see  wherein  you  consider  yourself 
wronged.  The  lady  who  is  now  my  fiancee  has  not  the 
slightest  affection  for  you — she  told  me  so  herself.  Had  she 
entertained  any  such  feelings  I  might  have  withdrawn  mj 


812  VENDETTA! 

proposals — but  as  matters  stand,  what  harm  have  I  done 
you  ?  " 

A  chorus  of  indignant  voices  interrupted  me.  "  Shame  on 
you,  Ferrari  ! "  cried  Gualdro.  "  The  count  speaks  like  a 
gentleman  and  a  man  of  honor.  Were  I  in  his  place  you 
should  have  had  no  word  of  explanation  whatever.  I  would 
not  have  condescended  to  parley  with  you — by  Heaven  I 
would  not ! " 

"  Nor  I  !  "  said  the  duke,  stiffly. 

"  Nor  I  !  "  said  Mancini. 

"  Surely,"  said  Luziana  Salustri,  "  Ferrari  will  make  the 
amende  honorable" 

There  was  a  pause.  Each  man  looked  at  Ferrari  with 
some  anxiety.  The  suddenness  of  the  quarrel  had  sobered 
the  whole  party  more  effectually  than  a  cold  douche.  Ferrari's 
face  grew  more  and  more  livid  till  his  very  lips  turned  a 
ghastly  blue — he  laughed  aloud  in  bitter  scorn.  Then,  walk- 
ing steadily  up  to  me,  with  his  eyes  full  of  baffled  vindictive- 
ness,  he  said,  in  a  low  clear  tone : 

"  You  say  that — you  say  she  never  cared  for  me — you  ! 
and  /am  to  apologize  to  you  !  Thief,  coward,  traitor — take 
that  for  my  apology  !  "  Aud  he  struck  me  across  the  mouth 
with  his  bare  hand  so  fiercely  that  the  diamond  ring  he  wore 
(my  diamond  ring)  cut  my  flesh  and  slightly  drew  blood.  A 
shout  of  anger  broke  from  all  present !  I  turned  to  the 
Marquis  D'Avencourt. 

"  There  can  be  but  one  answer  to  this,"  I  said,  with  in- 
different coldness.  "  Signer  Ferrari  has  brought  it  on  him- 
self. Marquis,  will  you  do  me  the  honor  to  arrange  the 
affair  ? " 

The  marquis  bowed,  "  I  shall  be  most  happy  !  " 

"  Ferrari  glared  about  him  for  a  moment  and  then  said, 
"  Freccia,  you  will  second  me  ?  " 

Captain  Freccia  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  You  must  posi- 
tively excuse  me,"  he  said.  "  My  conscience  will  not  permit 
me  to  take  up  such  a  remarkably  wrong  cause  as  yours,  caro 
mio !  I  shall  be  pleased  to  act  with  D'Avencourt  for  the 
count,  if  he  will  permit  me."  The  marquis  received  him  with 
cordiality,  and  the  two  engaged  in  earnest  conversation. 
Ferrari  next  proffered  his  request  to  his  quondam  friend  De 
Hamal,  who  also  declined  to  second  him,  as  did  every  one 
among  the  company.  He  bit  his  lips  in  mortification  and 
wounded  vanity,  and  seemed  hesitating  what  to  do  next, 
when  the  marquis  approached  him  with  frigid  courtesy  and 


VENDETTA! 


213 


appeared  to  offer  him  some  suggestions  in  a  low  tone  of 
voice— for  after  a  few  minutes'  converse,  Ferrari  suddenly 
turned  on  his  heel  and  abruptly  left  the  room  without  another 
word  or  look.  At  the  same  instant  I  touched  Vincenzo,  who, 
obedient  to  his  orders,  had  remained  an  impassive  but  evi- 
dently astonished  spectator  of  all  that  had  passed,  and  whis- 
pered— "  Follow  that  man  and  do  not  let  him  see  you."  He 
obeyed  so  instantly  that  the  door  had  scarcely  closed  upon 
Ferrari  when  Vincenzo  had  also  disappeared.  The  Marquis 
D'Avencourt  now  came  up  to  me. 

"  Your  opponent  has  gone  to  find  two  seconds,"  he  said. 
"  As  you  perceived,  no  one  here  would  or  could  support  him. 
It  is  a  most  unfortunate  affair." 

"  Most  unfortunate,"  chorused  De  Hamal,  who,  though  not 
in  it,  appeared  thoroughly  to  enjoy  it. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  the  Duke  di  Marina,  "  I  wonder  how 
our  noble  friend  could  be  so  lenient  with  such  a  young  puppy. 
His  conceit  is  insufferable  !  " 

Others  around  me  made  similar  remarks,  and  were  evi- 
dently anxious  to  show  how  entirely  they  were  on  my  side. 
I  however  remained  silent,  lest  they  should  see  how  gratified 
I  was  at  the  success  of  my  scheme.  The  marquis  addressed 
me  again  : 

"  While  awaiting  the  other  seconds,  who  are  to  find  us 
here,"  he  said,  with  a  glance  at  his  watch,  "  Freccia  and  I 
have  arranged  a  few  preliminaries.  It  is  now  nearly  midnight. 
We  propose  that  the  affair  should  come  off  in  the  morning  at 
six  precisely.  Will  that  suit  you  ?  " 

I  bowed. 

"  As  the  insulted  party  you  have  the  choice  of  weapons. 
Shall  we  say " 

"  Pistols,"  I  replied  briefly. 

"  A  la  bonne  heure  /"  Then,  suppose  we  fix  upon  the  plot 
of  open  ground  just  behind  the  hill  to  the  left  of  the  Casa 
Ghirlande — between  that  and  the  Villa  Romani — it  is  quiet 
and  secluded,  and  there  will  be  no  fear  of  interruption." 

I  bowed  again. 

"  Thus  it  stands,"  continued  the  marquis,  affably — "  the 
hour  of  six — the  weapons  pistols — the  paces  to  be  decided 
hereafter  when  the  other  seconds  arrive." 

I  professed  myself  entirely  satisfied  with  these  arrange- 
ments, and  shook  hands  with  my  amiable  coadjutor.  I  then 
looked  round  at  the  rest  of  the  assembled  company  with  a 
smile  at  their  troubled  faces. 


214  VENDETTA! 

"  Gentlemen,"  I  said,  "  our  feast  has  broken  up  in  a  rather 
disagreeable  manner — and  I  am  sorry  for  it,  the  more  espe- 
cially as  it  compels  me  to  part  from  you.  Receive  my  thanks 
for  your  company,  and  for  the  friendship  you  have  displayed 
toward  me  !  I  do  not  believe  that  this  is  the  last  time  I  shall 
have  the  honor  of  entertaining  you — but  if  it  should  be  so,  I 
shall  at  any  rate  carry  a  pleasant  remembrance  of  you  into 
the  next  world  1  If  on  the  contrary  I  should  survive  the 
combat  of  the  morning,  I  hope  to  see  you  all  again  on  my 
marriage-day,  when  nothing  shall  occur  to  mar  our  merri- 
ment. In  the  meantime — good-night !  " 

They  closed  round  me,  pressing  my  hands  warmly  and 
assuring  me  of  their  entire  sympathy  with  me  in  the  quarrel 
that  had  occurred.  The  duke  was  especially  cordial,  giving 
me  to  understand  that  had  the  others  failed  in  their  services, 
he  himself,  in  spite  of  his  dignity  and  peace-loving  disposition, 
would  have  volunteered  as  my  second.  I  escaped  from  them 
all  at  last  and  reached  the  quiet  of  my  own  apartments. 
There  I  sat  alone  for  more  than  an  hour,  waiting  for  the  re- 
turn of  Vincenzo,  whom  I  had  sent  to  track  Ferrari.  I  heard 
the  departing  footsteps  of  my  guests  as  they  left  the  hotel  by 
twos  and  threes — I  heard  the  equable  voices  of  the  marquis 
and  Captain  Freccia  ordering  hot  coffee  to  be  served  to  them 
in  a  private  room  where  they  were  to  await  the  other  seconds 
— now  and  then  I  caught  a  few  words  of  the  excited  language 
of  the  waiters  who  were  volubly  discussing  the  affair  as  they 
cleared  away  the  remains  of  the  superb  feast  at  which,  though 
none  knew  it  save  myself,  death  had  been  seated.  Thirteen 
at  fable  !  One  was  a  traitor  and  one  must  die.  I  knew 
which  one.  No  presentiment  lurked  in  my  mind  as  to  the 
doubtful  result  of  the  coming  combat.  It  was  not  my  lot  to 
fall — my  time  had  not  come  yet — I  felt  certain  of  that !  No ! 
All  the  fateful  forces  of  the  universe  would  help  me  to  keep 
alive  till  my  vengeance  was  fulfilled.  Oh,  what  bitter  shafts 
of  agony  Ferrari  carried  in  his  heart  at  that  moment.  I 
thought.  How  he  had  looked  when  I  said  she  never  cared 
for  him  !  Poor  wretch  !  I  pitied  him  even  while  I  rejoiced  at 
his  torture.  He  suffered  now  as  I  had  suffered — he  was 
duped  as  I  had  been  duped — and  each  quiver  of  his  con- 
rulsed  face  and  tormented  frame  had  been  fraught  with  sat- 
isfaction to  me  !  Each  moment  of  his  life  was  now  a  pang 
to  him.  Well !  it  would  soon  be  over — thus  far  at  least  I 
was  merciful.  I  drew  out  pens  and  paper  and  commenced 
to  write  a  few  last  instructions,  in  case  the  result  of  the  fight 


VENDETTA!  215 

should  be  fatal  to  me.  I  made  them  very  concise  and  brief 
— I  knew,  while  writing,  that  they  would  not  be  needed. 
Still — for  the  sake  of  form  I  wrote — and  sealing  the  document, 
I  directed  it  to  the  Duke  di  Marina.  I  looked  at  my  watch 
— it  was  past  one  o'clock  and  Vincenzo  had  not  yet  returned. 
I  went  to  the  window,  and  drawing  back  the  curtains,  sur- 
veyed the  exquisitely  peaceful  scene  that  lay  before  me.  The 
moon  was  still  high  and  bright — and  her  reflection  made  the 
waters  of  the  bay  appear  like  a  warrior's  coat  of  mail  woven 
from  a  thousand  glittering  links  of  polished  steel.  Here  and 
there,  from  the  masts  of  anchored  brigs  and  fishing-boats 
gleamed  a  few  red  and  green  lights  burning  dimly  like  fallen 
and  expiring  stars.  There  was  a  heavy  unnatural  silence 
everywhere — it  oppressed  me,  and  I  threw  the  window  wide 
open  for  air.  Then  came  the  sound  of  bells  chiming  softly. 
People  passed  to  and  fro  with  quiet  footsteps — some  paused 
to  exchange  friendly  greetings.  I  remembered  the  day  with 
a  sort  of  pang  at  my  heart.  The  night  was  over,  though 
as  yet  there  was  no  sign  of  dawn — and — it  was  Christmas 
morning ! 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

THE  opening  of  the  room  door  aroused  me  from  my  med- 
itations. I  turned — to  find  Vincenzo  standing  near  me,  hat 
in  hand — he  had  just  entered. 

"  Ebbene!"     I  said,  with  a  cheerful  air — "  what  news  ?  " 

"  Eccellenza,  you  have  been  obeyed.  The  young  Signor 
Ferrari  is  now  at  his  studio." 

"  You  left  him  there  ?  " 

"Yes,  eccellenza  " — and  Vincenzo  proceeded  to  give  me 
a  graphic  account  of  his  adventures.  On  leaving  the  ban- 
queting-room,  Ferrari  had  taken  a  carriage  and  driven 
straight  to  the  Villa  Romani — Vincenzo,  unperceived,  had 
swung  himself  on  to  the  back  of  the  vehicle  and  had  gone 
also. 

"  Arriving  there,"  continued  my  valet,  "  he  dismissed  the 
fiacre — and  rang  the  gate-bell  furiously  six  or  seven  times. 
No  one  answered.  I  hid  myself  among  the  trees  and 
watched.  There  were  no  lights  in  the  villa  windows — all  was 
darkness.  He  rang  it  again — he  even  shook  "the  gate  as 
though  he  would  break  it  open.  At  last  the  poor  Giacomo 
came,  half  undressed  and  holding  a  lantern  in  his  hand — h§ 


216  VENDETTA! 

seemed  terrified,  and  trembled  so  much  that  the  lantern  jogged 
up  and  down  like  a  corpse-candle  on  a  tomb. 

"  *  I  must  see  the  contessa,'  said  the  young  signer.  Gia- 
como  blinked  like  an  owl,  and  coughed  as  though  the  devil 
scratched  in  his  throat. 

"  '  The  contessa  !  '  he  said.     '  She  is  gone  ! ' 

"  The  signer  then  threw  himself  upon  Giacomo  and  shook 
him  to  and  fro  as  though  he  were  a  bag  of  loose  wheat. 

" '  Gone  ! '  and  he  screamed  like  a  madman!  'Where? 
Tell  me  where,  dolt !  idiot !  driveler  !  before  I  twist  your  neck 
for  you ! ' 

"Truly,  eccellenza,  I  would  have  gone  to  the  rescue  of  the 
poor  Giacomo,  but  respect  for  your  commands  kept  me 
silent.  '  A  thousand  pardons,  signer  ! '  he  whispered,  out  of 
breath  with  his  shaking.  '  I  will  tell  you  instantly — most  in- 
stantly. She  is  at  the  Convento  dell'  Annunziata — ten  miles 
from  here — the  saints  know  I  speak  the  truth — she  left  two 
days  since.' 

"  The  Signor  Ferrari  then  flung  away  the  unfortunate  Gia- 
como with  so  much  force  that  he  fell  in  a  heap  on  the  pave- 
ment and  broke  his  lantern  to  pieces.  The  old  man  set  up 
a  most  pitiful  groaning,  but  the  signer  cared  nothing  for  that. 
He  was  mad,  I  think.  '  Get  to  bed  ! '  he  cried,  '  and  sleep — 
sleep  till  you  die !  Tell  your  mistress  when  you  see  her  that 
I  came  to  kill  her !  My  curse  upon  this  house  and  all  who 
dwell  in  it ! '  And  with  that  he  ran  so  quickly  through  the 
garden  into  the  high-road  that  I  had  some  trouble  to  follow 
him.  There  after  walking  unsteadily  for  a  few  paces,  he 
suddenly  fell  down,  senseless." 

Vincenzo  paused.  "  Well,"  I  said,  "  what  happened 
next  ? " 

"  Eccellenza,  I  could  not  leave  him  there  without  aid.  I 
drew  my  cloak  well  up  to  my  mouth  and  pulled  my  hat  down 
over  my  eyes  so  that  he  could  not  recognize  me.  Then  I 
took  water  from  the  fountain  close  by  and  dashed  it  on  his 
face.  He  soon  came  to  himself,  and,  taking  me  for  a  stran- 
ger, thanked  me  for  my  assistance,  saying  that  he  had  a 
sudden  shock.  He  then  drank  greedily  from  the  fountain 
and  went  on  his  way." 

"  You  followed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  eccellenza — at  a  little  distance.  He  next  visited  a 
common  tavern  in  one  of  the  back  streets  of  the  city  and 
came  out  with  two  men.  They  were  well  dressed — they  had 
the  air  of  gentlemen  spoiled  by  bad  fortune.  The  signor 


VENDETTA! 


217 


talked  with  them  for  some  time — he  seemed  muck  excited. 
I  could  not  hear  what  they  said  except  at  the  end,  when  these 
two  strangers  consented  to  appear  as  seconds  for  Signer 
Ferrari,  and  they  at  once  left  him,  to  come  straight  to  this 
hotel.  And  they  are  arrived,  for  I  saw  them  through  a  half- 
opened  door  as  I  came  in,  talking  with  the  Marquis 
D'Avencourt." 

"  Well !  "  I  said,  "  and  what  of  Signer  Ferrari  when  he  was 
left  alone  by  his  two  friends  ? " 

"  There  is  not  much  more  to  tell,  eccellenza.  He  went  up 
the  little  hill  to  his  own  studio,  and  I  noticed  that  he  walked 
like  a  very  old  man  with  his  head  bent.  Once  he  stopped 
and  shook  his  fist  in  the  air  as  though  threatening  some  one. 
He  let  himself  in  at  his  door  with  a  private  key — and  I  saw 
him  no  more.  I  felt  that  he  would  not  come  out  again  for 
some  time.  And  as  I  moved  away  to  return  here,  I  heard 
a  sound  as  of  terrible  weeping." 

"And  that  is  all,  Vincenzo?  " 

"  That  is  all,  eccellenza." 

I  was  silent.  There  was  something  in  the  simple  narration 
that  touched  me,  though  I  remained  as  determinately  relent- 
less as  ever.  After  a  few  moments  I  said : 

"  You  have  done  well,  Vincenzo.  You  are  aware  how 
grossly  this  young  man  has  insulted  me — and  that  his  inju- 
rious treatment  can  only  be  wiped  out  in  one  way.  That  way 
is  already  arranged.  You  can  set  out  those  pistols  you 
cleaned." 

Vincenzo  obeyed — but  as  he  lifted  the  heavy  case  of 
weapons  and  set  them  on  the  table,  he  ventured  to  remark, 
timidly : 

"  The  eccellenza  knows  it  is  now  Christmas-day  ?  " 

"  I  am  quite  aware  of  the  fact,"  I  said  somewhat  frigidly. 

In  nowise  daunted  he  went  on,  "  Coming  back  just  now  I 
saw  the  big  Nicolo — the  eccellenza  has  doubtless  seen  him 
often  ? — he  is  a  vine-grower,  and  they  say  he  is  the  largest 
man  in  Naples — three  months  since  he  nearly  killed  his 
brother— ebbene  /  To-night  that  same  big  Nicolo  is  drinking 
Chianti  with  that  same  brother,  and  both  shouted  after  me 
as  I  passed,  '  Hola  !  Vincenzo  Flamma  !  all  is  well  between 
us  because  it  is  the  blessed  Christ's  birthday.'  "  Vincenzo 
stopped  and  regarded  me  wistfully. 

"  Well !  "  I  said,  calmly,  "  what  has  the  big  Nicolo  or  his 
brother  to  do  with  me  ?  " 

My  valet  hesitated — looked  up — then  down — finally  he 


2i8  VENDETTA! 

said,  simply,  "  May  the  saints  preserve  the  eccellenza  from 
all  harm  ! " 

I  smiled  gravely.  "  Thank  you,  my  friend  !  I  understand 
what  you  mean.  Have  no  fear  for  me.  I  am  now  going  to 
lie  down  and  rest  till  five  o'clock  or  thereabouts — and  I  advise 
you  to  do  the  same.  At  that  time  vou  can  bring  me  some 
coffee." 

And  I  nodded  kindly  to  him  as  I  left  him  and  entered  my 
sleeping  apartment,  where  I  threw  myself  on  the  bed,  dressed 
as  I  was.  I  had  no  intention  of  sleeping — my  mind  was  too 
deeply  engrossed  by  all  I  had  gone  through.  I  could  enter 
-into  Guide's  feelings — had  I  not  suffered  as  he  was  now  suf- 
fering ? — nay  !  more  than  he — for  he,  at  any  rate,  would  not 
be  buried  alive  !  I  should  take  care  of  that !  He  would  not 
have  to  endure  the  agony  of  breaking  loose  from  the  cold 
grasp  of  the  grave  to  come  back  to  life  and  find  his  name 
slandered,  and  his  vacant  place  filled  up  by  a  usurper.  Do 
what  I  would,  I  could  not  torture  him  as  much  as  I  myself 
had  been  tortured.  That  was  a  pity — death,  sudden  and 
almost  painless,  seemed  too  good  for  him.  I  held  up  my  hand 
in  the  half  light  and  watched  it  closely  to  see  if  it  trembled 
ever  so  slightly.  No  !  it  was  steady  as  a  rock — I  felt  I  was 
sure  of  my  aim.  I  would  not  fire  at  his  heart,  I  thought— 
but  just  above  it — for  I  had  to  remember  one  thing — he 
must  live  long  enough  to  recognize  me  before  he  died.  That 
was  the  sting  I  reserved  for  his  last  moments !  The  sick 
dreams  that  had  bewildered  my  brain  when  I  was  taken  ill 
at  the  auberge  recurred  to  me.  I  remembered  the  lithe 
figure,  so  like  Guido,  that  had  glided  in  the  Indian  canoe 
toward  me  and  had  plunged  a  dagger  three  times  in  my 
heart  ?  Had  it  not  been  realized  ?  Had  not  Guido  stabbed 
me  thrice  ? — in  his  theft  of  my  wife's  affections — in  his  con- 
tempt for  my  little  dead  child — in  his  slanders  on  my  name  ? 
Then  why  such  foolish  notions  of  pity — of  forgiveness,  that 
were  beginning  to  steal  into  my  mind?  It  was  too  late  now 
for  forgiveness — the  very  idea  of  it  only  rose  out  of  a  silly 
sentimentalism  awakened  by  Ferrari's  allusion  to  our  young 
days — days  for  which,  after  all,  he  really  cared  nothing. 
Meditating  on  all  these  things,  I  suppose  I  must  have  fallen 
by  imperceptible  degrees  into  a  doze  which  gradually  deep- 
ened till  it  became  a  profound  and  refreshing  sleep.  From 
this  I  was  awakened  by  a  knocking  at  the  door.  I  arose  and 
admitted  Vincenzo,  who  entered  bearing  a  tray  of  steaming 
coffee, 


VENDETTA!  219 

"  Is  it  already  so  late  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  It  wants  a  quarter  to  five,"  replied  Vincenzo — then  look- 
ing at  me  in  some  surprise,  he  added,  "  Will  not  the  eccel- 
lenza  change  his  evening-dress  ?  " 

I  nodded  in  the  affirmative — and  while  I  drank  my  coffee 
my  valet  set  out  a  suit  of  rough  tweed,  such  as  I  was  accus- 
tomed to  wear  every  day.  He  then  left  me,  and  I  quickly 
changed  my  attire,  and  while  I  did  so  I  considered  carefully 
the  position  of  affairs.  Neither  the  Marquis  D'Avencourt 
nor  Captain  Freccia  had  ever  known  me  personally  when  I 
was  Fabio  Romani — nor  was  it  at  all  probable  that  the  two 
tavern  companions  of  Ferrari  had  ever  seen  me.  Ar  surgeon 
'would  be  on  the  field — most  probably  a  stranger.  Thinking 
over  these  points,  I  resolved  on  a  bold  stroke — it  was  this — 
that  when  I  turned  to  face  Ferrari  in  the  combat,  I  would  do 
so  with  uncovered  eyes — I  would  abjure  my  spectacles  alto- 
gether for  the  occasion.  Vaguely  I  wondered  what  the  effect 
would  be  upon  him.  I  was  very  much  changed  even  without 
these  disguising  glasses — my  white  beard  and  hair  had  seem- 
ingly altered  my  aspect — yet  I  knew  there  was  something 
familiar  in  the  expression  of  my  eyes  that  could  not  fail  to 
startle  one  who  had  known  me  well.  My  seconds  would 
consider  it  very  natural  that  I  should  remove  the  smoke- 
colored  spectacles  in  order  to  see  my  aim  unencumbered — 
the  only  person  likely  to  be  disconcerted  by  my  action  was 
Ferrari  himself.  The  more  I  thought  of  it  the  more  deter- 
mined I  was  to  do  it.  I  had  scarcely  finished  dressing  when 
Vincenzo  entered  with  my  overcoat,  and  informed  me  that 
the  marquis  waited  for  me,  and  that  a  close  carriage  was  in 
attendance  at  the  private  door  of  the  hotel. 

"  Permit  me  to  accompany  you,  eccellenza  !  "  pleaded  the 
faithful  fellow,  with  anxiety  in  the  tone  of  his  voice. 

"  Come  then,  amico  /"  I  said,  cheerily.  "  If  the  marquis 
makes  no  objection  I  shall  not.  But  you  must  promise  not 
to  interrupt  any  of  the  proceedings  by  so  much  as  an  ex- 
clamation." 

He  promised  readily,  and  when  I  joined  the  marquis  he 
followed,  carrying  my  case  of  pistols. 

"  He  can  be  trusted,  I  suppose  ? "  asked  D'Avencourt, 
glancing  keenly  at  him  while  shaking  hands  cordially  with 
me. 

"  To  the  death  !  "  I  replied,  laughingly.  "  He  will  break 
his  heart  if  he  is  not  allowed  to  bind  up  my  wounds  !  " 

"  I  see  you  are  in  good  spirits,  conte,"  remarked  Captain 


J20  VENDETTA! 

Freccia,  as  we  took  our  seats  in  the  carriage.  "  It  is  always 
the  way  with  the  man  who  is  in  the  right.  Ferrari,  I  fear,  is 
not  quite  so  comfortable." 

And  he  proffered  me  a  cigar,  which  I  accepted.  Just  as 
we  were  about  to  start,  the  fat  landlord  of  the  hotel  rushed 
toward  us,  and  laying  hold  of  the  carriage  door — "  Eccel- 
lenza,"  he  observed  in  a  confidential  whisper,  "  of  course  this 
is  only  a  matter  of  coffee  and  glorias  ?  They  will  be  ready 
for  you  all  on  your  return.  I  know — I  understand  !  "  And 
he  smiled  and  nodded  a  great  many  times,  and  laid  his  finger 
knowingly  on  the  side  of  his  nose.  \Ve  laughed  heartily,  as- 
suring him  that  his  perspicuity  was  wonderful,  and  he  stood 
on  the  broad  steps  in  high  good  humor,  watching  us  as  our 
vehicle  rumbled  heavily  away. 

"  Evidently,"  I  remarked,  "  he  does  not  consider  a  duel  as 
a  serious  affair." 

"  Not  he  !  "  replied  Freccia.  "  He  has  known  of  too  many 
sham  fights  to  be  able  to  understand  a  real  one.  D'Aven- 
court  knows  something  about  that  too,  though  he  always  kills 
his  man.  But  very  often  it  is  sufficient  to  scratch  one  an- 
other with  the  sword-point  so  as  to  draw  a  quarter  of  a  drop 
of  blood,  and  honor  is  satisfied  !  Then  the  coffee  and  glorias 
are  brought,  as  suggested  by  our  friend  the  landlord." 

"  It  is  a  ridiculous  age,"  said  the  marquis,  taking  his  cigar 
from  his  mouth,  and  complacently  surveying  his  small,  supple 
white  hand,  "  thoroughly  ridiculous,  but  I  determined  it 
should  never  make  a  fool  of  me.  You  see,  my  dear  conte, 
nowadays  a  duel  is  very  frequently  decided  with  swords 
rather  than  pistols,  and  why  ?  Because  cowards  fancy  it  is 
much  more  difficult  to  kill  with  the  sword.  But  not  at  all. 
Long  ago  I  made  up  my  mind  that  no  man  should  continue 
to  live  who  dared  to  insult  me.  I  therefore  studied  sword- 
play  as  an  art.  And  I  assure  you  it  is  a  simple  matter  to 
kill  with  the  sword — remarkably  simple.  My  opponents  are 
astonished  at  the  ease  with  which  I  dispatch  them  !  " 

Freccia  laughed.  "  De  Hamal  is  a  pupil  of  yours,  mar- 
quis, is  he  not  ?  " 

"  I  regret  to  say  yes  !  He  is  marvelously  clumsy.  I  have 
often  earnestly  requested  him  to  eat  his  sword  rather  than 
handle  it  so  boorishly.  Yet  he  kills  his  men,  too,  but  in  a 
butcher-like  manner — totally  without  grace  or  refinement.  I 
should  say  he  was  about  on  a  par  with  our  two  associates, 
Ferrari's  seconds." 

I  roused  myself  from  a  reverie  into  which  I  had  fallen. 


VENDETTA!  ±21 

41  What  men  are  they  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  One  calls  himself  the  Capitano  Ciabatti,  the  other  Cava- 
liere  Dursi,  at  your  service,"  answered  Freccia,  indifferently. 
"  Good  swearers  both  and  hard  drinkers — filled  with  stock 
phrases,  such  as  '  our  distinguished  dear  friend,  Ferrari/ 
'  wrongs  which  can  only  be  wiped  out  by  blood  ' — all  bombast 
and  braggadocio  !  These  fellows  would  as  soon  be  on  one 
side  as  the  other." 

He  resumed  his  smoking,  and  we  all  three  lapsed  into 
silence.  The  drive  seemed  very  long,  though  in  reality  the 
distance  was  not  great.  At  last  we  passed  the  Casa  Ghir- 
lande,  a  superb  chateau  belonging  to  a  distinguished  noble- 
man who  in  former  days  had  been  a  friendly  neighbor  to  me, 
and  then  our  vehicle  jolted  down  a  gentle  declivity  which 
sloped  into  a  small  valley,  where  there  was  a  good-sized  piece 
of  smooth  flat  greensward.  From  this  spot  could  be  faintly 
discerned  the  castellated  turrets  of  my  own  house,  the  Villa 
Romani.  Here  we  came  to  a  standstill.  Vincenzo  jumped 
briskly  down  from  his  seat  beside  the  coachman,  and  assisted 
us  to  alight.  The  carriage  then  drove  off  to  a  retired  corner 
behind  some  trees.  We  surveyed  the  ground,  and  saw  that 
as  yet  only  one  person  beside  ourselves  had  arrived.  This 
was  the  surgeon,  a  dapper  good-humored  little  German  who 
spoke  bad  French  and  worse  Italian,  and  who  shook  hands 
cordially  with  us  all.  On  learning  who  I  was  he  bowed  low 
and  smiled  very  amiably.  "  The  best  wish  I  can  offer  to  you, 
signer,"  he  said,  "  is  that  you  may  have  no  occasion  for  my 
services.  You  have  reposed  yourself  ?  That  is  well — sleep 
steadies  the  nerves.  Ach !  you  shiver !  True  it  is,  the 
morning  is  cold." 

I  did  indeed  experience  a  passing  shudder,  but  not  be- 
cause the  air  was  chilly.  It  was  because  I  felt  certain — so 
terribly  certain,  of  killing  the  man  I  had  once  loved  well. 
Almost  I  wished  I  could  also  feel  that  there  was  the  slightest 
possibility  of  his  killing  me  ;  but  no  ! — all  my  instincts  told 
me  there  was  no  chance  of  this.  I  had  a  sort  of  sick  pain 
at  my  heart,  and  as  I  thought  of  her,  the  jewel-eyed  snake 
who  had  wrought  all  the  evil,  my  wrath  against  her  increased 
tenfold.  I  wondered  scornfully  what  she  was  doing  away 
in  the  quiet  convent  where  the  sacred  Host,  unveiled,  glittered 
on  the  altar  like  a  star  of  the  morning.  No  doubt  she  slept ; 
it  was  yet  too  early  for  her  to  practice  her  sham  sanctity. 
She  slept,  in  all  probability  most  peacefully,  while  her  husband 
and  her  lover  called  upon  death  to  come  and  decide  between 


222  rENDETTA! 

them.  The  slow  clear  strokes  of  a  bell  chiming  from  the 
city  tolled  six,  and  as  its  last  echo  trembled  mournfully  on 
the  wind  there  was  a  slight  stir  among  my  companions.  I 
looked  and  saw  Ferrari  approaching  with  his  two  associates. 
He  walked  slowly,  and  was  muffled  in  a  thick  cloak  ;  his 
hat  was  pulled  over  his  brows,  and  I  could  not  see  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face,  as  he  did  not  turn  hi"  head  once  in  my 
direction,  but  stood  apart  leaning  againsc  the  trunk  of  a  leaf- 
less tree.  The  seconds  on  both  sides  now  commenced 
measuring  the  ground. 

"  We  are  agreed  as  to  the  distance,  gentlemen,"  said  the 
marquis.  "  Twenty  paces,  I  think  ? " 

"  Twenty  paces,"  stiffly  returned  one  of  Ferrari's  friends — 
a  battered-looking  middle-aged  rouew\\\\  ferocious  mustachios, 
whom  I  presumed  was  Captain  Ciabatti. 

They  went  on  measuring  carefully  and  in  silence.  During 
the  pause  I  turned  my  back  on  the  whole  party,  slipped  off 
my  spectacles  and  put  them  in  my  pocket.  Then  I  lowered 
the  brim  of  my  hat  slightly  so  that  the  change  might  not  be 
observed  too  suddenly — and  resuming  my  first  position,  I 
waited.  It  was  daylight  though  not  full  morning — the  sun 
had  not  yet  risen,  but  there  was  an  opaline  luster  in  the  sky, 
'and  one  pale  pink  streak  in  the  east  like  the  floating  pennon 
from  the  lance  of  a  hero,  which  heralded  his  approach. 
There  was  a  gentle  twittering  of  awakening  birds — the  grass 
sparkled  with  a  million  tiny  drops  of  frosty  dew.  A  curious 
calmness  possessed  me.  I  felt  for  the  time  as  though  I  were 
a  mechanical  automaton  moved  by  some  other  will  than  my 
own.  I  had  no  passion  left. 

The  weapons  were  now  loaded — and  the  marquis,  looking 
about  him  with  a  cheerful  business-like  air,  remarked : 

"  I  think  we  may  now  place  our  men  ? " 

This  suggestion  agreed  to,  Ferrari  left  his  place  near  the 
tree  against  which  he  had  in  part  inclined  as  though  fatigued, 
and  advanced  to  the  spot  his  seconds  pointed  out  to  him. 
He  threw  off  his  hat  and  overcoat,  thereby  showing  that  he 
was  still  in  his  evening-dress.  His  face  was  haggard  and  of 
a  sickly  paleness — his  eyes  had  dark  rings  of  pain  round 
them,  and  were  full  of  a  keen  and  bitter  anguish.  He  eagerly 
grasped  the  pistol  they  handed  to  him,  and  examined  it 
closely  with  vengeful  interest.  I  meanwhile  also  threw  off 
my  hat  and  coat — the  marquis  glanced  at  me  with  careless 
approval. 

"  You  look  a  much  younger  man  without  your  spectacles, 


VENDETTA  !  223 

conte,"  he  remarked  as  he  handed  me  my  weapon.  I  smiled 
indifferently,  and  took  up  my  position  at  the  distance  indicated, 
exactly  opposite  Ferrari.  He  was  still  occupied  in  the  ex- 
amination of  his  pistol,  and  did  not  at  once  look  up. 

"  Are  we  ready,  gentlemen  ?  "  demanded  Freccia,  with 
courteous  coldness. 

"  Quite  ready,"  was  the  response.  The  Marquis  D'Aven- 
court  took  out  his  handkerchief.  Then  Ferrari  raised  his 
head  and  faced  me  fully  for  the  first  time.  Great  Heaven  ! 
shall  I  ever  forget  the  awful  change  that  came  over  his  pallid 
countenance — the  confused  mad  look  of  his  eyes — the  startled 
horror  of  his  expression !  His  lips  moved  as  though  he 
were  about  to  utter  an  exclamation — he  staggered. 

"  One  !  "  cried  D'Avencourt. 

We  raised  our  weapons. 

" Two ! " 

The  scared  and  bewildered  expression  of  Ferrari's  face 
deepened  visibly  as  he  eyed  me  steadily  in  taking  aim.  I 
smiled  proudly — I  gave  him  back  glance  for  glance — I  saw 
him  waver — his  hand  shook. 

"  Three  !  "  and  the  white  handkerchief  fluttered  to  the 
ground.  Instantly,  and  together,  we  fired.  Ferrari's  bullet 
whizzed  past  me,  merely  tearing  my  coat  and  grazing  my 
shoulder.  The  smoke  cleared — Ferrari  still  stood  erect,  oppo- 
site to  me,  staring  straight  forward  with  the  same  frantic  far* 
off  look — the  pistol  had  dropped  from  his  hand.  Suddenly 
he  threw  up  his  arms — shuddered — and  with  a  smothered 
groan  fell,  face  forward,  prone  on  the  sward.  The  surgeon 
hurried  to  his  side  and  turned  him  so  that  he  lay  on  his  back. 
He  was  unconscious — though  his  dark  eyes  were  wide  open, 
and  turned  blindly  upward  to  the  sky.  The  front  of  his  shirt 
was  already  soaked  with  blood.  We  all  gathered  round  him. 

"A  good  shot?"  inquired  the  marquis,  with  the  indif- 
ference of  a  practiced  duelist. 

"  Ach !  a  good  shot  indeed  ! "  replied  the  little  German 
doctor,  shaking  his  head  as  he  rose  from  his  examination  of 
the  wound.  "  Excellent !  He  will  be  dead  in  ten  minutes. 
The  bullet  has  passed  through  the  lungs  close  to  the  heart. 
Honor  is  satisfied  certainly  !  " 

At  that  moment  a  deep  anguished  sigh  parted  the  lips  of  the 
dying  man.x  Sense  and  speculation  returned  to  those  glaring 
eyes  so  awfully  upturned.  He  looked  upon  us  all  doubtfully 
one  after  the  other — till  finally  his  gaze  rested  upon  me. 
Then  he  grew  strangely  excited — his  lips  moved — he  eagerly 


124  VENDETTA  I 

tried  to  speak.  The  doctor,  watchful  of  his  movements, 
poured  brandy  between  his  teeth.  The  cordial  gave  him 
momentary  strength — he  raised  himself  by  a  supreme  effort. 

"Let  me  speak,"  he  gasped  faintly,  "  to  him  /"  And  he 
pointed  to  me — then  he  continued  to  mutter  like  a  man  in  a 
dream — "  to  him — alone — alone  ! — to  him  alone  !  " 

The  others,  slightly  awed  by  his  manner,  drew  aside  out  of 
ear-shot,  and  I  advanced  and  knelt  beside  him,  stooping  my 
face  between  his  and  the  morning  sky.  His  wild  eyes  met 
mine  with  a  piteous  beseeching  terror. 

"  In  God's  name,"  he  whispered,  thickly,  "who  areyoul" 

"  You  know  me,  Guido  ! "  I  answered,  steadily.  "  I  am 
Fabio  Romani,  whom  you  once  called  friend  !  I  am  he  whose 
wife  you  stole  ! — whose  name  you  slandered  ! — whose  honor 
you  despised  !  Ah  !  look  at  me  well !  your  own  heart  tells 
you  who  I  am  !  " 

He  uttered  a  low  moan  and  raised  his  hand  with  a  feeble 
gesture. 

"  Fabio  ?  Fabio  ? "  he  gasped.  "  He  died — I  saw  him  in 
his  coffin " 

I  leaned  more  closely  over  him.  "  I  was  buried  alive"  I 
said  with  thrilling  distinctness.  "  Understand  me,  Guido — 
buried  alive  !  I  escaped — no  matter  how.  I  came  home — 
to  learn  your  treachery  and  my  own  dishonor  !  Shall  I  tell 
you  more  ?  " 

A  terrible  shudder  shook  his  frame — his  head  moved  rest- 
lessly to  and  fro,  the  sweat  stood  in  large  drops  upon  his 
forehead.  With  my  own  handkerchief  I  wiped  his  lips  and 
brow  tenderly — my  nerves  were  strung  up  to  an  almost  brit- 
tle tension — I  smiled  as  a  woman  smiles  when  on  the  verge 
of  hysterical  weeping. 

"  You  know  the  avenue,"  I  said,  "  the  dear  old  avenue, 
where  the  nightingales  sing  ?  I  saw  you  there,  Guido — with 
her  ! — on  the  very  night  of  my  return  from  death — she  was 
in  your  arms — you  kissed  her — you  spoke  of  me — you  toyed 
with  the  necklace  on  her  white  breast !  " 

He  writhed  under  my  gaze  with  a  strong  convulsive  move- 
ment. 

u  Tell  me — quick  !  "  he  gasped.  "  Does — she — knowr 
you  ? " 

"  Not  yet !  "  I  answered,  slowly.  "  But  soon  she  will — 
when  I  have  married  her !  " 

A  look  of  bitter  attguish  filled  his  straining  eyes.  "  Oh, 
God,  God !  "  he  exclaimed  with  a  groan  like  that  of  a.  wild 


VENDETTA!  225 

beast  in  pain.  "  This  is  horrible,  too  horrible  !  Spare  me 

— spare "  A  rush  of  blood  choked  his  utterance.  His 

breathing  grew  fainter  and  fainter  ;  the  livid  hue  of  approach- 
ing dissolution  spread  itself  gradually  over  his  countenance. 
Staring  wildly  at  me,  he  groped  with  his  hands  as  though 
he  searched  for  some  lost  thing.  I  took  one  of  those  feebly 
wandering  hands  within  my  own,  and  held  it  closely  clasped. 

"  You  know  the  rest,"  I  said  gently  ;  "  you  understand  my 
vengeance  !  But  it  is  all  over,  Guido — all  over,  now !  She 
has  played  us  both  false.  May  God  forgive  you  as  I  do  !  " 

He  smiled — a  soft  look  brightened  his  fast-glazing  eyes — 
the  old  boyish  look  that  had  won  my  love  in  former  days. 

"  All  over ! "  he  repeated  in  a  sort  of  plaintive  babble. 

"  All  over  now  !  God — Fabio — forgive  ! "  A  terrible 

convulsion  wrenched  and  contorted  his  limbs  and  features,  his 
throat  rattled,  and  stretching  himself  out  with  a  long  shiver- 
ing sigh — he  died  !  The  first  beams  of  the  rising  sun,  pierc- 
ing through  the  dark,  moss-covered  branches  of  the  pine-trees, 
fell  on  his  clustering  hair,  and  lent  x  mocking  brilliancy  to 
his  wide-open  sightless  eyes :  there  was  a  smile  on  the  closed 
lips  !  A  burning,  suffocating  sensation  rose  in  my  throat,  as 
of  rebellious  tears  trying  to  force  a  passage.  I  still  held  the 
hand  of  my  friend  and  enemy — it  had  grown  cold  in  my  clasp. 
Upon  it  sparkled  my  family  diamond — the  ring  she  had  given 
him.  I  drew  the  jewel  off :  then  I  kissed  that  poor  passive 
hand  as  I  laid  it  gently  down — kissed  it  tenderly,  reverently. 
Hearing  footsteps  approaching,  I  rose  from  my  kneeling  post- 
ure and  stood  erect  with  folded  arms,  looking  tearlessly  down 
on  the  stiffening  clay  before  me.  The  rest  of  the  party  came 
up  ;  no  one  spoke  for  a  minute  ;  all  surveyed  the  dead  body 
in  silence.  At  last  Captain  Freccia  said,  softly  in  half-inquir- 
ing accents : 

"  He  is  gone,  I  suppose  ?  " 

I  btfwed.     I  could  not  trust  myself  to  speak. 

"  He  made  you  his  apology  ?  "  asked  the  marquis. 

I  bowed  again.  There  was  another  pause  of  heavy 
silence.  The  rigid  smiling  face  of  the  corpse  seemed  to 
mock  all  speech.  The  doctor  stooped  and  skillfully  closed 
those  glazed  appealing  eyes — and  then  it  seemed  to  me  as 
though  Guido  merely  slept  and  that  a  touch  would  waken  him. 
The  Marquis  D'Avencourt  took  me  by  the  arm  and  whis- 
pered, "Get  back  to  the  city,  amico,  and  take  some  wine — 
you  look  positively  ill !  Your  evident  regret  does  you  credit, 
considering  the  circumstances — but  what  would  you  ? — it  was 
'5 


226  VENDETTA! 

a  fair  fight.  Consider  the  provocation  you  had  !  I  should 
advise  you  to  leave  Naples  for  a  couple  of  weeks — by  that 
time  the  affair  will  be  forgotten.  I  know  how  these  things 
are  managed — leave  it  all  to  me." 

I  thanked  him  and  shook  his  hand  cordially  and  turned  to 
depart.  Vincenzo  was  in  waiting  with  the  carriage.  Once 
I  looked  back,  as  with  slow  steps  I  left  the  field ;  a  golden 
radiance  illumined  the  sky  just  above  the  stark  figure 
stretched  so  straightly  on  the  sward ;  while  almost  from  the 
very  side  of  that  pulseless  heart  a  little  bird  rose  from  its 
nest  among  the  grasses  and  soared  into  the  heavens,  singing 
rapturously  as  it  flew  into  the  warmth  and  glory  of  the  living, 
breathing  day. 


CHAPTER  XXVT. 

ENTERING  the  fiacre,  I  drove  in  it  a  very  little  way  toward 
the  city.  I  bade  the  driver  stop  at  the  corner  of  the  winding 
road  that  led  to  the  Villa  Romani,  and  there  I  alighted.  I 
ordered  Vincenzo  to  go  on  to  the  hotel  and  send  from  thence 
my  own  carriage  and  horses  up  to  the  villa  gates,  where  I 
would  wait  for  it.  I  also  bade  him  pack  my  portmanteau  in 
readiness  for  my  departure  that  evening,  as  I  proposed  going 
ro  Avellino,  among  the  mountains,  for  a  few  days.  He  heard 
my  commands  in  silence  and  evident  embarrassment.  Fi- 
nally he  said : 

u  Do  I  also  travel  with  the  eccellenza  ? " 

"  Why,  no  !  "  I  answered  with  a  forced  sad  smile.  "  Do 
you  not  see,  amico,  that  I  am  heavy-hearted,  and  melancholy 
men  are  best  left  to  themselves.  Besides — remember  the 
carnival — I  told  you  you  were  free  to  indulge  in  its  merri- 
ment, and  shall  I  not  deprive  you  of  your  pleasure  ?  No, 
Vincenzo  ;  stay  and  enjoy  yourself,  and  take  no  concern  for 
me." 

Vincenzo  saluted  me  with  his  usual  respectful  bow,  but  his 
features  wore  an  expression  of  obstinacy. 

"  The  eccellenza  must  pardon  me,"  he  said,  "  but  I  have 
just  looked  at  death,  and  my  taste  is  spoiled  for  carnival. 
Again — the  eccellenza  is  sad — it  is  necessary  that  I  should 
accompany  him  to  Avellino." 

I  saw  that  his  mind  was  made  up,  and  I  was  in  no  humor 
for  argument. 

"As  you  will,"  I  answered,  wearily,  "only  believe  me,  you 


VENDETTA!  227 

make  a  foolish  decision.  But  do  what  you  like  ;  only  arrange 
all  so  that  we  leave  to-night.  And  now  get  back  quickly — > 
give  no  explanation  at  the  hotel  of  what  has  occurred,  and 
lose  no  time  in  sending  on  my  carriage.  I  will  wait  alone  at 
the  Villa  Romani  till  it  comes." 

The  vehicle  rumbled  off,  bearing  Vincenzo  seated  on  the 
box  beside  the  driver.  I  watched  it  disappear,  and  then 
turned  into  the  road  that  led  me  to  my  own  dishonored  home. 
The  place  looked  silent  and  deserted — not  a  soul  was  stirring. 
The  silken  blinds  of  the  reception-rooms  were  all  closely 
drawn,  showing  that  the  mistress  of  the  house  was  absent ; 
it  was  as  if  some  one  lay  dead  within,.  A  vague  wonderment 
arose  in  my  mind.  Who  was  dead  ?  Surely  it  must  be  I — I 
the  master  of  the  household,  who  lay  stiff  and  cold  in  one  of 
those  curtained  rooms  !  This  terrible  white-haired  man  who 
roamed  feverishly  up  and  down  outside  the  walls  was  not  me 
— it  was  some  angry  demon  risen  from  the  grave  to  wreak 
punishment  on  the  guilty,  /was  dead — /could  never  have 
killed  the  man  who  had  once  been  my  friend.  And  he  also 
was  dead — the  same  murderess  had  slain  us  both — and  she 
lived  !  Ha  !  that  was  wrong — she  must  now  die — but  in  such 
torture  that  her  very  soul  shall  shrink  and  shrivel  under  it 
into  a  devil's  flame  for  the  furnace  of  hell ! 

With  my  brain  full  of  hot  whirling  thoughts  like  these  I 
looked  through  the  carved  heraldic  work  of  the  villa  gates. 
Here  had  Guido  stood,  poor  wretch,  last  night,  shaking  these 
twisted  wreaths  of  iron  in  impotent  fury.  There  on  the 
mosaic  pavement  he  had  flung  the  trembling  old  servant  who 
had  told  him  of  the  absence  of  his  traitress.  On  this  very 
spot  he  had  launched  his  curse,  which,  though  he  knew  it 
not,  was  the  curse  of  a  dying  man.  I  was  glad  he  had 
uttered  it — such  maledictions  cling!  There  was  nothing  but 
compassion  for  him  in  my  heart  now  that  he  was  dead.  He 
had  been  duped  and  wronged  even  as  I ;  and  I  felt  that  his 
spirit,  released  from  its  grosser  clay,  would  work  with  mine 
and  aid  in  her  punishment. 

I  paced  round  the  silent  house  till  I  came  to  the  private 
wicket  that  led  into  the  avenue ;  I  opened  it  and  entered 
the  familiar  path.  I  had  not  been  there  since  the  fatal 
night  on  which  I  had  learned  my  own  betrayal.  How  in- 
tensely still  were  those  solemn  pines — how  gaunt  and  dark 
and  grim !  Not  a  branch  quivered^— not  a  leaf  stirred.  A 
cold  dew  that  was  scarcely  a  frost  glittered  on  the  moss  at  my 
feet.  No  bird's  voice  broke  the  impressive  hush  of  the  wood- 


i2S  VENDETTA! 

lands  morning  dream.  No  bright-hued  flower  unbuttoned 
its  fairy  cloak  to  the  breeze ;  yet  there  was  a  subtle  perfume 
everywhere — the  fragrance  of  unseen  violets  whose  purple 
eyes  were  still  closed  in  slumber. 

I  gazed  on  the  scene  as  a  man  may  behold  in  a  vision 
the  spot  where  he  once  was  happy.  I  walked  a  few  paces, 
then  paused  with  a  strange  beating  at  my  heart.  A  shadow 
fell  across  my  path — it  flitted  before  me,  it  stopped — it  lay 
still.  I  saw  it  resolve  itself  into  the  figure  of  a  man  stretched 
out  in  rigid  silence,  with  the  light  beating  full  on  its  smiling, 
Jead  face,  and  also  on  a  deep  wound  just  above  his  heart, 
from  which  the  blood  oozed  redly,  staining  the  grass  on 
which  he  lay.  Mastering  the  sick  horror  which  seized  me 
at  this  sight,  I  sprung  forward — the  shadow  vanished  in- 
stantly— it  was  a  mere  optical  delusion,  the  result  of  my 
overwrought  and  excited  condition.  I  shuddered  involun- 
tarily at  the  image  my  own  heated  fancy  had  conjured  up  ; 
should  I  always  see  Guido  thus,  I  thought,  even  in  my 
dreams  ? 

Suddenly  a  ringing,  swaying  rush  of  sound  burst  joyously 
on  the  silence — the  slumbering  trees  awoke,  their  leaves 
moved,  their  dark  branches  quivered,  and  the  grasses  lifted 
up  their  green  lilliputian  sword-blades.  Bells ! — and  such 
bells  ! — tongues  of  melody  that  stormed  the  air  with  sweetest 
eloquence — round,  rainbow  bubbles  of  music  that  burst  upon 
the  wind,  and  dispersed  in  delicate  broken  echoes. 

"  Peace  on  earth,  good  will  to  men  !  Peace — on — earth- 
good — will — to — men  !  "  they  seemed  to  say  over  and  over 
again,  till  my  ears  ached  with  the  repetition.  Peace  !  What 
had  I  to  do  with  peace  or  good-will  ?  The  Christ  Mass 
could  teach  me  nothing.  I  was  as  one  apart  from  human 
life — an  alien  from  its  customs  and  affections — for  me  no 
love,  no  brotherhood  remained.  The  swinging  song  of  the 
chimes  jarred  my  nerves.  Why,  I  thought,  should  the  wild 
erring  world,  with  all  its  wicked  men  and  women,  presume 
to  rejoice  at  the  birth  of  the  Saviour  ? — they,  who  were  not 
worthy  to  be  saved  !  I  turned  swiftly  away  ;  I  strode  fiercely 
past  the  kingly  pines  that,  now  thoroughly  awakened,  seemed 
to  note  me  with  a  stern  disdain  as  though  they  said  among 
themselves:  "What  manner  of  small  creature  is  this  that 
torments  himself  with  passions  unknown  to  us  in  our  calm 
converse  with  the  stars  ?  " 

I  was  glad  when  I  stood  again  on  the  high-road,  and  in- 
finitely relieved  when  I  hsard  th^  rapid  trot  of  horses  and 


VENDETTA  f  229 

rumbling  of  wheels,  and  saw  my  closed  brougham,  drawn  by 
its  prancing  black  Arabians,  approaching.  I  walked  to  meet 
it;  the  coachman  seeing  me  drew  up  instantly.  I  bade  him 
take  me  to  the  Convento  dell'  Annunziata,  and  entering  the 
carriage,  I  was  driven  rapidly  away. 

The  convent  was  situated,  I  knew,  somewhere  between 
Naples  and  Sorrento.  I  guessed  it  to  be  near  Castellamare, 
but  it  was  fully  three  miles  beyond  that,  and  was  a  some- 
what long  drive  of  more  than  two  hours.  It  lay  a  good  dis- 
tance out  of  the  direct  route,  and  was  only  attained  by  a  by- 
road, which  from  its  rough  and  broken  condition  was  evidently 
not  much  frequented.  The  building  stood  apart  from  all  other 
habitations  in  a  large  open  piece  of  ground,  fenced  in  by  a 
high  stone  wall  spiked  at  the  top.  Roses  climbed  thickly 
among  the  spikes,  and  almost  hid  their  sharp  points  from 
view,  and  from  a  perfect  nest  of  green  foliage,  the  slender 
spire  of  the  convent  chapel  rose  into  the  sky  like  a  white 
finger  pointing  to  heaven.  My  coachman  drew  up  before 
the  heavily  barred  gates.  I  alighted,  and  bade  him  take  the 
carriage  to  the  principal  hostelry  at  Castellamare,  and  wait 
for  me  there.  As  soon  as  he  had  driven  off,  I  rang  the  con- 
vent bell.  A  little  wicket  fixed  in  the  gate  opened  im- 
mediately, and  the  wrinkled  visage  of  a  very  old  and  ugly  nun 
looked  out.  She  demanded  in  low  tones  what  I  sought.  L 
handed  her  my  card,  and  stated  my  desire  to  see  the  Countess 
Romani,  if  agreeable  to  the  superioress.  While  I  spoke  she 
looked  at  me  curiously — my  spectacles,  I  suppose,  excited 
her  wonder — for  I  had  replaced  these  disguising  glasses  im- 
mediately on  leaving  the  scene  of  the  duel — I  needed  them 
yet  a  little  while  longer.  After  peering  at  me  a  minute  or 
two  with  her  bleared  and  aged  eyes,  she  shut  the  wicket  in 
my  face  with  a  smart  click  and  disappeared.  While  I 
awaited  her  return  I  heard  the  sound  of  children's  laughter 
and  light  footsteps  running  trippingly  on  the  stone  passage 
within. 

"  Fi  done,  Rosie  !  "  said  the  girl's  voice  in  French  ;  "  la 
bonne  Mere  Marguerite  sera  tres  tres  fache'e  avec  toi." 

"  Tais-toi,  petite  sainte  !  "  cried  another  voice  more  pierc- 
ing and  silvery  in  tone.  "  Je  veux  voir  qui  est  la  !  C'est  un 
homme  je  sais  bien — parceque  la  vieille  Mere  Laura  a  rougi !  " 
and  both  young  voices  broke  into  a  chorus  of  renewed  laugh- 
ter. 

Then  came  the  shuffling  noise  of  the  old  nun's  footsteps 
•  Tetunaing ;  she  evidently  caught  the  two  truants,  whoever  they 


230  VENDETTA! 

were,  for  I  heard  her  expostulating,  scolding  and  apostrophiz- 
ing the  saints  all  in  a  breath,  as  she  bade  them  go  inside  the 
house  and  ask  the  good  little  Jesus  to  forgive  their  naughti- 
ness. A  silence  ensued,  then  the  bolts  and  bars  of  the  huge 
gate  were  undone  slowly — it  opened,  and  I  was  admitted.  I 
raised  my  hat  as  I  entered,  and  walked  bareheaded  through 
a  long,  cold  corridor,  guided  by  the  venerable  nun,  who  looked 
at  me  no  more,  but  told  her  beads  as  she  walked,  and  never 
spoke  till  she  had  led  me  into  the  building,  through  a  lofty 
hall  glorious  with  sacred  paintings  and  statues,  and  from 
thence  into  a  large,  elegantly  furnished  room,  whose  windows 
commanded  a  fine  view  of  the  grounds.  Here  she  motioned 
me  to  take  a  seat,  and  without  lifting  her  eyelids,  said  : 
"  Mother  Marguerite  will  wait  upon  you  instantly,  signor." 
I  bowed,  and  she  glided  from  the  room  so  noiselessly  that 
I  did  not  even  hear  the  door  close  behind  her.  Left  alone  in 
what  I  rightly  concluded  was  the  reception-room  for  visitors, 
I  looked  about  me  with  some  faint  interest  and  curiosity.  I 
had  never  before  seen  the  interior  of  what  is  known  as  an 
educational  convent.  There  were  many  photographs  on  the 
walls  and  mantelpiece — portraits  of  girls,  some  plain  of  face 
and  form,  others  beautiful — no  doubt  they  had  all  been  sent 
to  the  nuns  as  souvenirs  of  former  pupils.  Rising  from  my 
chair  I  examined  a  few  of  them  carelessly,  and  was  about  to 
inspect  a  fine  copy  of  Murillo's  Virgin,  when  my  attention 
was  caught  by  an  upright  velvet  frame  surmounted  with  my 
own  crest  and  coronet.  In  it  was  the  portrait  of  my  wife, 
taken  in  her  bridal  dress,  as  she  looked  when  she  married  me. 
I  took  it  to  the  light,  and  stared  at  the  features  dubiously. 
This  was  she — this  slim,  fairy-like  creature  clad  in  gossamer 
white,  with  the  marriage  veil  thrown  back  from  her  cluster- 
ing hair  and  child-like  face— this  was  the  thing  for  which  two 
men's  lives  had  been  sacrificed  !  With  a  movement  of  dis- 
gust I  replaced  the  frame  in  its  former  position ;  I  had 
scarcely  done  so  when  the  door  opened  quietly  and  a  tall 
woman,  clad  in  trailing  robes  of  pale  blue  with  a  nun's  band 
and  veil  of  fine  white  cashmere,  stood  before  me.  I  saluted 
her  with  a  deep  reverence  ;  she  responded  by  the  slightest 
possible  bend  of  her  head.  Her  outward  manner  was  so  very 
still  and  composed  that  when  she  spoke  her  colorless  lips 
scarcely  moved,  her  very  breathing  never  stirred  the  silver 
crucifix  that  lay  like  a  glittering  sign-manual  on  her  quiet 
breast.  Her  voice,  though  low,  was  singularly  clear  and 
penetrating. 


VENDETTA!  231 

"  I  address  the  Count  Oliva  ?  "  she  inquired. 

I  bowed  in  the  affirmative.  She  looked  at  me  keenly  :  she 
had  dark,  brilliant  eyes,  in  which  the  smoldering  fires  of  many 
a  conquered  passion  still  gleamed. 

"  You  would  see  the  Countess  Romani,  who  is  in  retreat 
here  ?  " 

"  If  not  inconvenient  or  out  of  rule "  I  began. 

The  shadow  of  a  smile  flitted  across  the  nun's  pale,  intel- 
lectual face  ;  it  was  gone  almost  as  soon  as  it  appeared. 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  replied,  in  the  same  even  monotone. 
"  The  Countess  Nina  is,  by  her  own  desire,  following  a  strict 
regime,  but  to-day  being  a  universal  feast-day  all  rules  are 
somewhat  relaxed.  The  reverend  mother  desires  me  to  in- 
form you  that  it  is  now  the  hour  for  mass — she  has  herself 
already  entered  the  chapel.  If  you  will  share  in  our  devo- 
tions, the  countess  shall  afterward  be  informed  of  your  pres- 
ence here." 

I  could  do  no  less  than  accede  to  this  proposition,  though 
in  truth  it  was  unwelcome  to  me.  I  was  in  no  humor  for 
either  prayers  or  praise  ;  I  thought  moodily  how  startled  even 
this  impassive  nun  might  have  been,  could  she  have  known 
what  manner  of  man  it  was  that  she  thus  invited  to  kneel  in 
the  sanctuary.  However,  I  said  no  word  of  objection,  and 
she  bade  me  follow  her.  As  we  left  the  room  I  asked : 

"  Is  the  countess  well  ?  " 

"  She  seems  so,"  returned  Mere  Marguerite  ;  "she  follows 
her  religious  duties  with  exactitude,  and  makes  no  complaint 
of  fatigue." 

We  were  now  crossing  the  hall.  I  ventured  on  another  in- 
quiry. 

"  She  was  a  favorite  pupil  of  yours,  I  believe  ?  " 

The  nun  turned  her  passionless  face  toward  me  with  an  air 
of  mild  surprise  and  reproof. 

"  I  have  no  favorites,"  she  answered,  coldly.  "  All  the 
children  educated  here  share  my  attention  and  regard 
equally." 

I  murmured  an  apology,  and  added  with  a  forced  smile  : 

"You  must  pardon  my  apparent  inquisitiveness,  but  as  the 
future  husband  of  the  lady  who  was  brought  up  under  your 
care,  I  am  naturally  interested  in  all  that  concerns  her^" 

Again  the  searching  eyes  of  the  religie.use  surveyed  me  ;  she 
sighed  slightly. 

"  I  am  aware  of  the  connection  between  you,"  she  said,  in 
rather  a  paineci  tone.  "  Nina  Romani  belongs  to  the  world, 


232 


VENDETTA! 


and  follows  the  ways  of  the  world.  Of  course,  marriage  is 
the  natural  fulfillment  of  most  young  girls'  destinies ;  there 
are  comparatively  few  who  are  called  out  of  the  ranks  to 
serve  Christ.  Therefore,  when  Nina  married  the  estimable 
Count  Romani,  of  whom  report  spoke  ever  favorably,  we  re- 
joiced greatly,  feeling  that  her  future  was  safe  in  the  hands 
of  a  gentle  and  wise  protector.  May  his  soul  rest  in  peace  ! 
But  a  second  marriage  for  her  is  what  I  did  not  expect,  and 
what  I  cannot  in  my  conscience  approve.  You  see  I  speak 
frankly." 

"  I  am  honored  that  you  do  so,  madame  !  "  I  said,  ear- 
nestly, feeling  a  certain  respect  for  this  sternly  composed  yet 
patient-featured  woman  ;  "  yet,  though  in  general  you  may 
find  many  reasonable  objections  to  it,  a  second  marriage  is  I 
think,  in  the  Countess  Romani's  case  almost  necessary.  She 
is  utterly  without  a  protector — she  is  very  young  and  how 
beautiful  !  " 

The  nun's  eyes  grew  solemn  and  almost  mournful. 

"  Such  beauty  is  a  curse,"  she  answered,  with  emphasis  ; 
"  a  fatal — a  fearful  curse  !  As  a  child  it  made  her  wayward 
As  a  woman  it  keeps  her  wayward  still.  Enough  of  this, 
signer  !  "  and  she  bowed  her  head  ;  "  excuse  my  plain  speak- 
ing. Rest  assured  that  I  wish  you  both  happiness." 

We  had  by  this  time  reached  the  door  of  the  chapel,  through 
which  the  sound  of  the  pealing  organ  poured  forth  in 
triumphal  surges  of  melody.  Mere  Marguerite  dipped  her 
fingers  in  the  holy  water,  and  signing  herself  with  the  cross, 
pointed  out  a  bench  at  the  back  of  the  church  as  one  that 
strangers  were  allowed  to  occupy.  I  seated  myself,  and 
looked  with  a  certain  soothed  admiration  at  the  picturesque 
scene  before  me.  There  was  the  sparkle  of  twinkling  lights — 
the  bloom  and  fragrance  of  flowers.  There  were  silent  rows 
of  nuns  blue-robed  and  white-veiled,  kneeling  and  absorbed 
in  prayer.  Behind  these  a  little  cluster  of  youthful  figures 
in  black,  whose  drooped  heads  were  entirely  hidden  in  veils 
of  flowing  white  muslin.  Behind  these  again,  one  woman's 
slight  form  arrayed  in  heavy  mourning  garments  ;  her  veil 
was  black,  yet  not  so  thick  but  that  I  could  perceive  the 
sheeny  glitter  of  golden  hair — that  was  my  wife,  I  knew. 
Pious  angel  !  how  devout  she  looked !  I  smiled  in  dreary 
scorn  as  I  watched  her  ;  I  cursed  her  afresh  in  the  name  of 
the  man  I  had  killed.  And  above  all,  surrounded  with  the 
luster  of  golden  rays  and  incrusted  jewels,  the  uncovered 
Host  shone  serenely  like  the  gleam  of  the  morning  star.  The 


VENDETTA!  233 

stately  service  went  on — the  organ  music  swept  through  and 
through  the  church  as  though  it  were  a  strong  wind  striving 
to  set  itself  free — but  amid  it  all  I  sat  as  one  in  a  dark  dream, 
scarcely  seeing,  scarcely  hearing — inflexible  and  cold  as 
marble.  The  rich  plaintive  voice  of  one  of  the  nuns*  in  the 
choir,  singing  the  Agnus  Dei,  moved  me  to  a  chill  sort  of 
wonder.  "  Quitollis peccata  mundi  " — Who  takest  away  the  sin 
of  the  world."  No,  no  !  there  are  some  sins  that  cannot  be 
taken  away — the  sins  of  faithless  women,  the  "  little  "  sins  as 
they  are  called  nowadays — for  we  have  grown  very  lenient 
in  some  things,  and  very  severe  in  others.  We  will  imprison 
the  miserable  wretch  who  steals  five  francs  from  our  pockets, 
but  the  cunning  feminine  thief  who  robs  us  of  our  prestige, 
our  name  and  honorable  standing  among  our  fellow-men, 
escapes  almost  scot-free  ;  she  cannot  be  put  in  prison,  or 
sentenced  to  hard  labor — not  she  !  A  pity  it  is  that  Christ 
did  not  leave  us  some  injunction  as  to  what  was  to  be  done 
with  such  women — not  the  penitent  Magdalenes,  but  the 
creatures  *vhose  mouths  are  full  of  lies  even  when  they  pre- 
tend to  pray — they  who  would  be  capable  of  trying  to  tempt 
the  priest  who  comes  to  receive  their  last  confessions — they 
who  would  even  act  out  a  sham  repentance  on  their  death- 
beds in  order  to  look  well.  What  can  be  done  with  devils 
such  as  these  ?  Much  has  been  said  latterly  of  the  wrongs 
perpetrated  on  women  by  men  ;  will  no  one  take  up  the  other 
side  of  the  question  ?  We,  the  stronger  sex,  are  weak  in  this 
—we  are  too  chivalrous.  When  a  woman  flings  herself 
on  our  mercy  we  spare  her  and  are  silent.  Tortures  will 
not  wring  her  secrets  out  ofms ;  something  holds  us  back 
from  betraying  her.  I  know  not  what  it  can  be — perhaps  it 
is  the  memory  of  our  mothers.  Whatever  it  is,  it  is  certain 
that  many  a  man  allows  himself  to  be  disgraced  rather  than 
he  will  disgrace  a  woman.  But  a  time  is  at  hand  when  this 
foolish  chivalry  of  ours  will  die  out.  On  changera  tout  cela  / 
When  once  our  heavy  masculine  brains  shall  have  grasped 
the  novel  idea  that  woman  has  by  her  own  wish  and  choice 
resigned  all  claim  on  our  respect  or  forbearance,  we  shall 
have  our  revenge.  We  are  slow  to  change  the  traditions  of 
our  forefathers,  but  no  doubt  we  shall  soon  manage  to  quench 
the  last  spark  of  knightly  reverence  left  in  us  for  the  female 
sex,  as  this  is  evidently  the  point  the  women  desire  to  bring  us 
to.  We  shall  meet  them  on  that  low  platfrom  of  the  "equality" 
they  seek  for,  and  we  shall  treat  them  with  the  unhesitating 
and  regardless  familiarity  they  so  earnestly  invite  I 


234  VENDETTA! 

Absorbed  in  thought,  I  knew  not  when  the  service  ended. 
A  hand  touched  me,  and  looking  up  I  saw  Mere  Marguerite, 
who  whispered  : 

"  Follow  me,  if  you  please." 

I  rose,  and  obeyed  her  mechanically.  Outside  the  chapel 
door  she  said  : 

"  Pray  excuse  me  for  hurrying  you,  but  strangers  are  not 
permitted  to  see  the  nuns  and  boarders  passing  out." 

I  bowed,  and  walked  on  beside  her.  Feeling  forced  to  say 
something,  I  asked : 

"  Have  you  many  boarders  at  this  holiday  season  ?  " 

"  Only  fourteen,"  she  replied,  "  and  they  are  children 
whose  parents  live  far  away.  Poor  little  ones !  "  and  the  set 
lines  of  the  nun's  stern  face  softened  into  tenderness  as  she 
spoke.  "  We  do  our  best  to  make  them  happy,  but  naturally 
they  feel  lonely.  We  have  generally  fifty  or  sixty  young  girls 
here,  besides  the  day  scholars." 

"  A  great  responsibility,"  I  remarked. 

"  Very  great  indeed  !  "  and  she  sighed  ;  "  almost  terrible. 
So  much  of  a  woman's  after  life  depends  on  the  early  train-, 
ing  she  receives.  We  do  all  we  can,  and  yet  in  some  cases 
our  utmost  efforts  are  in  vain  ;  evil  creeps  in,  we  know  not  how 
— some  unsuspected  fault  spoils  a  character  that  we  judged 
to  be  admirable,  and  we  are  often  disappointed  in  our  most 
promising  pupils.  Alas !  there  is  nothing  entirely  without 
blemish  in  this  world." 

Thus  talking,  she  showed  me  into  a  small,  comfortable- 
looking  room,  lined  with  books  and  softly  carpeted. 

"  This  is  one  of  our  libraries,"  she  explained.  "  The  count- 
ess will  receive  you  here,  as  other  visitors  might  disturb  you 
in  the  drawing-room.  Pardon  me,"  and  her  steady  gaze  had 
something  of  compassion  in  it,  "  but  you  do  not  look  well. 
Can  I  send  you  some  wine  ? " 

I  declined  this  offer  with  many  expressions  of  gratitude, 
and  assured  her  I  was  perfectly  well.  She  hesitated,  and  at 
last  said,  anxiously  : 

"  I  trust  you  were  not  offended  at  my  remark  concerning 
Nina  Roman  i's  marriage  with  you  ?  I  fear  I  was  too 
hasty  ? " 

"  Not  so,  madame,"  I  answered,  with  all  the  earnestness  I 
felt.     "  Nothing  is  more  pleasant  to  me  than  a  frank  opinion 
frankly  spoken.    I  have  been  so  accustomed  to  deception — 
Here  I  broke  off  and  added  hastily,  "  Pray  do  not  think  me 
capable  of  judging  you  wrongly." 


VENDETTA  !  23$ 

She  seemed  relieved,  and  smiling  that  shadowy,  flitting 
smile  of  hers,  she  said  : 

"  No  doubt  you  are  impatient,  signer ;  Nina  shall  come  to 
you  directly,"  and  with  a  slight  salutation  she  left  me. 

Surely  she  was  a  good  woman,  I  thought,  and  vaguely  won- 
dered about  her  past  history — that  past  which  she  had  buried 
forever  under  a  mountain  of  prayers.  What  had  she  been 
like  when  young — before  she  had  shut  herself  within  the  con- 
vent walls — before  she  had  set  the  crucifix  like  a  seal  on  her 
heart  ?  Had  she  ever  trapped  a  man's  soul  and  strangled  it 
with  lies  ?  I  fancied  not — her  look  was  too  pure  and  can- 
did ;  yet  who  could  tell  ?  Were  not  Nina's  eyes  trained  to 
appear  as  though  they  held  the  very  soul  of  truth  ? 

A  few  minutes  passed.  I  heard  the  fresh  voices  of  chil- 
dren singing  in  the  next  room  : 

"  D*ou  went  le  petit  Gesu  ? 

Cejoli  bout  on  de  rose 
•    Qui  fleurit,  enfant  chert 
Sur  le  cceur  de notre  mere  Marie" 

Then  came  a  soft  rustle  of  silken  garments,  the  door 
opened,  and  my  wife  entered. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SHE  approached  with  her  usual  panther-like  grace  and  sup- 
ple movement,  her  red  lips  parted  in  a  charming  smile. 

"  So  good  of  you  to  come  ! "  she  began,  holding  out  her 
two  hands  as  though  she  invited  an  embrace  ;  "  and  on 
Christmas  morning  too  ! "  She  paused,  and  seeing  that  I 
did  not  move  or  speak,  she  regarded  me  with  some  alarm. 
"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked,  in  fainter  tones  ;  "  has 
anything  happened  ? " 

I  looked  at  her.  I  saw  that  she  was  full  of  sudden  fear, 
I  made  no  attempt  to  soothe  her,  I  merely  placed  a  chair. 

"  Sit  down,"  I  said,  gravely.  "  I  am  the  bearer  of  bad 
news." 

She  sunk  into  the  chair  as  though  unnerved,  and  gazed 
at  me  with  terrified  eyes.  She  trembled.  Watching  her 
keenly,  I  observed  all  these  outward  signs  of  trepidation  with 
deep  satisfaction.  I  saw  plainly  what  was  passing  in  her 
mind.  A  great  dread  had  seized  her — the  dread  that  I  had 
found  out  her  treachery.  So  indeed  I  had,  but  the  time  had 


236  VENDETTA! 

not  yet  come  for  her  to  know  it.  Meanwhile  she  suffered — 
suffered  acutely  with  that  gnawing  terror  and  suspense  eating 
into  her  soul.  I  said  nothing,  I  waited  for  her  to  speak. 
After  a  pause,  during  which  her  cheeks  had  lost  their  delicate 
bloom,  she  said,  forcing  a  smile  as  she  spoke— 

"  Bad  news  ?  You  surprise  me  !  What  can  it  be?  Some 
unpleasantness  with  Guido?  Have  you  seen  him  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  him,"  I  answered  in  the  same  formal  and 
serious  tone  ;  "  I  have  just  left  him.  He  sends  you  this" 
and  I  held  out  my  diamond  ring  that  I  had  drawn  off  the  dead 
man's  finger. 

If  she  had  been  pale  before,  she  grew  paler  now.  All  the 
brilliancy  of  her  complexion  faded  for  the  moment  into  an 
awful  haggardness.  She  took  the  ring  with  fingers  that 
shook  visibly  and  were  icy  cold.  There  was  no  attempt  at 
smiling  now.  She  drew  a  sharp  quick  breath  ;  she  thought 
I  knew  all.  I  was  again  silent.  She  looked  at  the  diamond 
signet  with  a  bewildered  air. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  murmured,  petulantly.  "  I 
gave  him  this  as  a  remembrance  of  his  friend,  my  husband, 
why  does  he  return  it  ?  " 

Self-tortured  criminal !  I  studied  her  with  a  dark  amuse- 
ment, but  answered  nothing.  Suddenly  she  looked  up  at  me 
and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Why  are  you  so  cold  and  strange,  Cesare  ?  "  she  pleaded, 
in  a  sort  of  plaintive  whimper.  "  Do  not  stand  there  like  a 
gloomy  sentinel;  kiss  me  and  tell  me  at  once  what  has  hap- 
pened." 

Kiss  her !  So  soon  after  kissing  the  dead  hand  of  her 
lover !  No,  I  could  not  and  would  not.  I  remained  standing 
where  I  was,  inflexibly  silent.  She  glanced  at  me  again,  very 
timidly,  and  whimpered  afresh. 

"  Ah,  you  do  not  love  me  !  "  she  murmured.  "  You  could 
not  be  so  stern  and  silent  if  you  loved  me !  If  there  is  in- 
deed any  bad  news,  you  ought  to  break  it  to  me  gently  and 
kindly.  I  thought  you  would  always  make  everything  easy 
for  me " 

"  Such  has  been  my  endeavor,  madame,"  I  said  interrupt- 
ing her  complaint.  "  From  your  own  statement,  I  judged 
that  your  adopted  brother  Guido  Ferrari  had  rendered  him- 
self obnoxious  to  you.  I  promised  that  I  would  silence  him 
—you  remember !  I  have  kept  my  word.  He  is  silenced — 
forever  ! " 

She  started. 


VENDETTA  f  237 

"  Silenced  ?     How  ?     You  mean " 

I  moved  away  from  my  place  behind  her  chair,  and  stood 
so  that  I  faced  her  as  I  spoke. 

"  I  mean  that  he  is  dead." 

She  uttered  a  slight  cry,  not  of  sorrow  but  of  wonderment. 

"  Dead /"  she  exclaimed.  "  Not  possible  !  Dead  !  You 
have  killed  him  ?  " 

I  bent  my  head  gravely.  "  I  killed  him — yes  !  But  in 
open  combat,  openly  witnessed.  Last  night  he  insulted  me 
grossly  ;  we  fought  this  morning.  We  forgave  each  other 
before  he  died." 

She  listened  attentively.  A  little  color  came  back  into 
her  cheeks. 

"  In  what  way  did  he  insult  you  ? "  she  asked,  in  a  low 
voice. 

I  told  her  all,  briefly.     She  still  looked  anxious. 

"  Did  he  mention  my  name  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  glanced  at  her  troubled  features  in  profound  contempt. 
She  feared  the  dying  man  might  have  made  some  confession 
to  me  !  I  answered  : 

"  No  ;  not  after  our  quarrel.  But  I  hear  he  went  to  your 
house  to  kill  you !  Not  finding  you  there,  he  only  cursed 
you." 

She  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  She  was  safe  now,  she 
thought ! 

Her  red  lips  widened  into  a  cruel  smile. 

"  What  bad  taste  !  "  she  said,  coldly.  "  Why  he  should 
curse  me  I  cannot  imagine !  I  have  always  been  kind  to 
him — too  kind." 

Too  kind  indeed !  kind  enough  to  be  glad  when  the  object 
of  all  her  kindness  was  dead  !  For  she  was  glad !  I  could 
see  that  in  the  murderous  glitter  of  her  eyes. 

"  You  are  not  sorry  ?  "  I  inquired,  with  an  air  of  pretended 
surprise. 

"  Sorry  ?  Not  at  all !  Why  should  I  be  ?  He  was  a  very 
agreeable  friend  while  my  husband  was  alive  to  keep  him  in 
order,  but  after  my  poor  Fabio's  death,  his  treatment  of  me 
was  quite  unbearable." 

Take  care,  beautiful  hypocrite !  take  care  !  Take  care 
lest  your  "  poor  Fabio's  "  fingers  should  suddenly  nip  your 
slim  throat  with  a  convulsive  twitch  that  means  death  ! 
Heaven  only  knows  how  I  managed  to  keep  my  hands  off  her 
at  that  moment !  Why,  any  groveling  beast  of  the  field  had 
more  feeling  than  this  wretch  whom  I  had  made  my  wife  J 


238  VENDETTA ! 

Even  for  Guide's  sake — such  are  the  strange  inconsistencies 
of  the  human  heart — I  could  have  slain  her  then.  But  I 
restrained  my  fury;  I  steadied  my  voice  and  said  calmly  : 

"Then  I  was  mistaken  ?  I  thought  you  would  be  dri-ply 
grieved,  that  my  news  would  shock  and  annoy  you  greatly, 
hence  my  gravity  and  apparent  coldness.  But  it  seems  I 
have  done  well  ? " 

She  sprung  up  from  her  chair  like  a  pleased  child  and 
flung  her  arms  round  my  neck. 

"  You  are  brave,  you  are  brave  !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  sort 
of  exultation.  "  You  could  not  have  done  otherwise  !  He 
insulted  you  and  you  killed  him.  That  was  right !  I  love 
you  all  the  more  for  being  such  a  man  of  honor ! " 

I  looked  down  upon  her  in  loathing  and  disgust.  Honor! 
Its  very  name  was  libeled  coming  from  her  lips.  She  did 
not  notice  the  expression  of  my  face — she  was  absorbed,  ex- 
cellent actress  as  she  was,  m  the  part  she  had  chosen  to  play. 

"  And  so  you  were  dull  and  sad  because  you  feared  to 
grieve  me  !  Poor  Cesare  ! "  she  said,  in  child-like  caressing 
accents,  such  as  she  could  assume  when  she  chose.  "  But 
now  that  you  see  I  am  not  unhappy,  you  will  be  cheerful 
again  ?  Yes  ?  Think  how  much  I  love  you,  and  how  happy 
we  will  be  !  And  see,  you  have  given  me  such  lovely  jewels, 
so  many  of  them  too,  that  I  scarcely  dare  offer  you  such  a 
trifle  as  this  ;  but  as  it  really  belonged  to  Fabio,  and  to  Fa- 
bio's  father,  whom  you  knew,  I  think  you  ought  to  have  it. 
Will  you  take  it  and  wear  it  to  please  me  ? "  and  she  slipped 
on  my  finger  the  diamond  signet — my  own  ring ! 

I  could  have  laughed  aloud  !  but  I  bent  my  head  gravely 
as  I  accepted  it. 

"  Only  as  a  proof  of  your  affection,  cara  mia"  I  said, 
"  though  it  has  a  terrible  association  for  me.  I  took  it  from 
Ferrari's  hand  when " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know ! "  she  interrupted  me  with  a  little 
shiver  ;  "  it  must  have  been  trying  for  you  to  have  seen  him 
dead.  I  think  dead  people  look  so  horrid — the  sight  upsets 
the  nerves !  I  remember  when  I  was  at  school  here,  they 
would  take  me  to  see  a  nun  who  died;  it  sickened  me  and 
made  me  ill  for  days.  I  can  quite  understand  your  feelings. 
But  you  must  try  and  forget  the  matter.  Duels  are  very 
common  occurrences,  after  all  1  " 

"  Very  common,"  I  answered,  mechanically,  still  regarding 
the  fair  upturned  face,  the  lustrous  eyes,  the  rippling  hair ; 
"  but  they  do  not  often  end  so  fatally.  The  result  of  this  one 


VENDETTA  !  $39 

Compels  me  to  leave  Naples  for  some  days.  I  g©  to  Avellino 
to-night." 

"  To  Avellino  ? "  she  exclaimed,  with  interest.  "  Oh,  I 
know  it  very  well.  I  went  there  once  with  Fabio  when  I 
was  first  married." 

"  And  were  you  happy  there  ? "  I  inquired,  coldly. 

I  remembered  the  time  she  spoke  of — a  time  of  such  un- 
reasoning, foolish  joy  ! 

"  Happy  ?  Oh,  yes  ;  everything  was  so  new  to  me  then. 
It  was  delightful  to  be  my  own  mistress,  and  I  was  so  glad 
to  be  out  of  the  convent." 

"  I  thought  you  liked  the  nuns  ?  "  I  said. 

"  Some  of  them — yes.  The  reverend  mother  is  a  dear  old 
thing.  But  Mere  Marguerite,  the  Vicaire  as  she  is  called — 
the  one  that  received  you — oh,  I  do  detest  her !  " 

"  Indeed  !  and  why  ?  " 

The  red  lips  curled  mutinously. 

"  Because  she  is  so  sly  and  silent.  Some  of  the  children 
here  adore  her ;  but  they  must  have  something  to  love,  you 
know,"  and  she  laughed  merrily. 

"Must  they?" 

I  asked  the  question  automatically,  merely  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something. 

"  Of  course  they  must,"  she  answered,  gayly.  "  You  fool- 
ish Cesare  !  The  girls  often  play  at  being  one  another's 
lovers,  only  they  are  careful  not  to  let  the  nuns  know  their 
game.  It  is  very  amusing.  Since  I  have  been  here  they 
have  what  is  called  a  *  craze '  for  me.  They  give  me  flowers, 
run  after  me  in  the  garden,  and  sometimes  kiss  my  dress, 
and  call  me  by  all  manner  of  loving  names.  I  let  them  do 
it  because  it  vexes  Madame  la  Vicaire;  but  of  course  it  is 
very  foolish." 

I  was  silent.  I  thought  what  a  curse  it  was — this  neces- 
sity of  loving.  Even  the  poison  of  it  must  find  its  way  into 
the  hearts  of  children — young  things  shut  within  the  walls  of 
a  secluded  convent,  and  guarded  by  the  conscientious  care 
of  holy  women. 

"  And  the  nuns  ?  "  I  said,  uttering  half  my  thoughts  aloud. 
"  How  do  they  manage  without  love  or  romance  ? " 

A  wicked  little  smile,  brilliant  and  disdainful,  glittered  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Do  they  always  manage  without  love  or  romance  ?  "  she 
asked,  half  indolently.  "  What  of  Abelard  and  Helo'ise,  or 
Fra  Lippi  ? " 


240  VENDETTA! 

Roused  by  something  in  her  tone,  I  caught  her  round  the 
waist,  and  held  her  firmly  while  I  said,  with  some  sternness : 

"And  you — is  it  possible  that  you  have  sympathy  with,  or 
find  amusement  in,  the  contemplation  of  illicit  and  dishonor- 
able passion — tell  me  ? " 

She  recollected  herself  in  time  ;  her  white  eyelids  drooped 
demurely. 

"  Not  I !  "  she  answered,  with  a  grave  and  virtuous  air ; 
"  how  can  you  think  so  ?  There  is  nothing  to  my  mind  so 
horrible  as  deceit ;  no  good  ever  comes  of  it." 

I  loosened  her  from  my  embrace. 

"  You  are  right,"  I  said,  calmly ;  "  I  am  glad  your  instincts 
are  so  correct !  I  have  always  hated  lies." 

"  So  have  I !  "  she  declared,  earnestly,  with  a  frank  and 
open  look ;  "  I  have  often  wondered  why  people  tell  them. 
They  are  so  sure  to  be  found  out !  " 

I  bit  my  lips  hard  to  shut  in  the  burning  accusations  that 
my  tongue  longed  to  utter.  Why  should  I  damn  the  actress 
or  the  play  before  the  curtain  was  ready  to  fall  on  both  ?  I 
changed  the  subject  of  converse. 

"  How  long  do  you  propose  remaining  here  in  retreat  ?  "  I 
asked.  "  There  is  nothing  now  to  prevent  your  returning  to 
Naples." 

She  pondered  for  some  minutes  before  replying,  then  she 
said : 

"  I  told  the  superioress  I  came  here  for  a  week.  I  had 
better  stay  till  that  time  is  expired.  Not  longer,  because  as 
Guido  is  really  dead,  my  presence  is  actually  necessary  in 
the  city." 

"  Indeed  !     May  I  ask  why  ?  " 

She  laughed  a  little  consciously. 

"  Simply  to  prove  his  last  will  and  testament,"  she  replied. 
"  Before  he  left  for  Rome,  he  gave  it  into  my  keeping." 

A  light  flashed  on  my  mind. 

"  And  its  contents  ? "  I  inquired. 

"  Its  contents  make  me  the  owner  of  everything  he  died 
possessed  of ! "  she  said,  with  an  air  of  quiet  yet  malicious 
triumph. 

Unhappy  Guido  !  What  trust  he  had  reposed  in  this  vile, 
self-interested,  heartless  woman  !  He  had  loved  her,  even 
as  I  had  loved  her — she  who  was  unworthy  of  any  love  !  I 
controlled  my  rising  emotion,  and  merely  said  with  gravity: 

"  I  congratulate  you  !  May  I  be  permitted  to  see  this 
document  ? " 


VENDETTA  ! 


241 


"  Certainly ;  I  can  show  it  to  you  now.  I  have  it  here,"  and 
she  drew  a  Russia-leather  letter-case  from  her  pocket,  and 
opening  it,  handed  me  a  sealed  envelope.  "  Break  the 
seal !  "  she  added,  with  childish  eagerness.  "  He  closed  it 
up  like  that  after  I  had  read  it." 

With  reluctant  hand,  and  a  pained  piteousness  at  my 
heart,  I  opened  the  packet.  It  was  as  she  had  said,  a  will 
drawn  up  in  perfectly  legal  form,  signed  and  witnessed, 
leaving  everything  unconditionally  to  "  Nina,  Countess 
Romani,  of  the  Villa  Romani,  Naples."  I  read  it  through 
and  returned  it  to  her. 

"  He  must  have  loved  you  !  "  I  said. 

She  laughed. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said,  airily.  "  But  many  people  love  me 
— that  is  nothing  new  ;  I  am  accustomed  to  be  loved.  But 
you  see,"  she  went  on,  reverting  to  the  will  again,  "  it  speci- 
fies, *  everything  he  dies  possessed  of ';'  that  means  all  the 
money  left  to  him  by  his  uncle  in  Rome,  does  it  not  ? " 

I  bowed.     I  could  not  trust  myself  to  speak. 

"  I  thought  so,"  she  murmured,  gleefully,  more  to  herself 
than  to  me ;  "  and  I  have  a  right  to  all  his  papers  and  let- 
ters." There  she  paused  abruptly  and  checked  herself. 

I  understood  her.  She  wanted  to  get  back  her  own  letters 
to  the  dead  man,  lest  her  intimacy  with  him  should  leak  out 
in  some  chance  way  for  which  she  was  unprepared.  Cunning 
devil !  I  was  almost  glad  she  showed  me  to  what  a  depth  of 
vulgar  vice  she  had  fallen.  There  was  no  question  of  pity 
or  forbearance  in  her  case.  If  all  the  tortures  invented  by 
savages  or  stern  inquisitors  could  be  heaped  upon  her  at 
once,  such  punishment  would  be  light  in  comparison  with 
her  crimes — crimes  for  which,  mark  you,  the  law  gives  you 
no  remedy  but  divorce.  Tired  of  the  wretched  comedy,  I 
looked  at  my  watch. 

"  It  is  time  for  me  to  take  my  leave  of  you,"  I  said,  in  the 
stiff,  courtly  manner  I  affected.  "  Moments  fly  fast  in  your 
enchanting  company  !  But  I  have  still  to  walk  to  Castella- 
mare,  there  to  rejoin  my  carriage,  and  I  have  many  things  to 
attend  to  before  my  departure  this  evening.  On  my  return 
from  Avellino  shall  I  be  welcome  ?  " 

"  You  know  it,"  she  returned,  nestling  her  head  against 
my  shoulder,  while  for  mere  form's  sake  I  was  forced  to 
hold  her  in  a  partial  embrace.  "  I  only  wish  you  were  not 
going  at  all.  Dearest,  do  not  stay  long  away — I  shall  be  so 
unhappy  till  you  come  back !  " 
16 


44*  VEXDETTA! 

"  Absence  strengthens  love,  they  say,"  I  observed,  with  a 
forced  smile.  **  May  it  do  so  in  our  case.  Farewell,  cara 
mia  !  Pray  for  me  ;  I  suppose  you  do  pray  a  great  deal 
here  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  naively  ;  "  there  is  nothing  else  to 
do." 

I  held  her  hands  closely  in  my  grasp.  The  engagement- 
ring  on  her  finger,  and  the  diamond  signet  on  my  own, 
flashed  in  the  light  like  the  crossing  of  swords. 

"  Pray  then,"  I  said,  "  storm  the  gates  of  heaven  with 
sweet-voiced  pleadings  for  the  repose  of  poor  Ferrari's  soul ! 
Remember  he  loved  you,  though  you  never  loved  him. 
For  your  sake  he  quarreled  with  me,  his  best  friend — for 
your  sake  he  died  !  Pray  for  him — who  knows,"  and  I 
spoke  in  thrilling  tones  of  earnestness — "  who  knows  but  that 
his  too-hastily  departed  spirit  may  not  be  near  us  now — hear- 
ing our  voices,  watching  our  looks  ?  " 

She  shivered  slightly,  and  her  hands  in  mine  grew  cold. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  I  continued,  more  calmly ;  "  you  must  not  for- 
get to  pray  for  him — he  was  young  and  not  prepared  to  die." 

My  words  had  some  of  the  desired  effect  upon  her — for 
once  her  ready  speech  failed — she  seemed  as  though  she 
sought  for  some  reply  and  found  none.  I  still  held  her  hands. 

"  Promise  me  !  "  I  continued  ;  "  and  at  the  same  time  pray 
for  your  dead  husband !  He  and  poor  Ferrari  were  close 
friends,  you  know ;  it  will  be  pious  and  kind  of  you  to  join 
their  names  in  one  petition  addressed  to  Him  *  from  whom 
no  secrets  are  hid,'  and  who  reads  with  unerring  eyes  the 
purity  of  your  intentions.  Will  you  do  it  ? " 

She  smiled,  a  forced,  faint  smile. 

"  I  certainly  will,"  she  replied,  in  a  low  voice  ;  "  I  promise 
you." 

I  released  her  hands — I  was  satisfied.  If  she  dared  to 
pray  thus  I  felt — I  knew  that  she  would  draw  down  upon  her 
soul  the  redoubled  wrath  of  Heaven  ;  for  I  looked  beyond 
the  grave  !  The  mere  death  of  her  body  would  be  but  a 
slight  satisfaction  to  me ;  it  was  the  utter  destruction  of  her 
wicked  soul  that  I  sought.  She  should  never  repent,  I 
swore  ;  she  should  never  have  the  chance  of  casting  off  her 
vileness  as  a  serpent  casts  its  skin,  and,  reclothing  herself  in 
innocence,  presume  to  ask  admittance  into  that  Etern?* 
Gloryland  whither  my  little  child  had  gone — never,  ne/er! 
No  church  should  save  her,  no  priest  should  absolve  her — 
not  while  /  lived  ! 


VENDETTA !  243 

She  watched  me  as  I  fastened  my  coat  and  began  to  draw 
on  my  gloves. 

"  Are  you  going  now  ?  "  she  asked,  somewhat  timidly. 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  now,  cara  mia"  I  said.  "  Why  !  what 
makes  you  look  so  pale  ?  " 

For  she  had  suddenly  turned  very  white. 

"  Let  me  see  your  hand  again,"  she  demanded,  with  fever- 
ish eagerness,  "  the  hand  on  which  I  placed  the  ring !  " 

Smilingly  and  with  readiness  I  took  off  the  glove  I  had 
just  put  on. 

"  What  odd  fancy  possesses  you  now,  little  one  ?  "  I  asked, 
with  an  air  of  playfulness. 

She  made  no  answer,  but  took  my  hand  and  examined  it 
closely  and  curiously.  Then  she  looked  up,  her  lips  twitched 
nervously,  and  she  laughed  a  little  hard  mirthless  laugh. 

"  Your  hand,"  she  murmured,  incoherently,  "  with — that 
— signet — on  it — is  exactly  like — like  Fabio's  !  " 

And  before  I  had  time  to  say  a  word  she  went  off  into  a 
violent  fit  of  hysterics — sobs,  little  cries,  and  laughter  all  in- 
termingled in  that  wild  and  reasonless  distraction  that  gener- 
ally unnerves  the  strongest  man  who  is  not  accustomed  to  it. 
I  rang  the  bell  to  summon  assistance  ;  a  lay-sister  answered 
it,  and  seeing  Nina's  condition,  rushed  for  a  glass  of  water 
and  summoned  Madame  la  Vicaire.  This  latter,  entering  with 
her  quiet  step  and  inflexible  demeanor,  took  in  the  situation 
at  a  glance,  dismissed  the  lay-sister,  and  possessing  herself 
of  the  tumbler  of  water,  sprinkled  the  forehead  of  the  inter- 
esting patient,  and  forced  some  drops  between  her  clinched 
teeth.  Then  turning  to  me  she  inquired,  with  some  stateli- 
fiess  of  manner,  what  had  caused  the  attack  ? 

"  I  really  cannot  tell  you,  madame,"  I  said,  with  an  air  of 
affected  concern  and  vexation.  "  I  certainly  told  the  coun- 
tess of  the  unexpected  death  of  a  friend,  but  she  bore  the 
news  with  exemplary  resignation.  The  circumstance  that 
appears  to  have  so  greatly  distressed  her  is  that  she  finds,  or 
says  she  finds,  a  resemblance  between  my  hand  and  the  hand 
of  her  deceased  husband.  This  seems  to  me  absurd,  but 
there  is  no  accounting  for  ladies'  caprices." 

And  I  shrugged  my  shoulders  as  though  I  were  annoyed 
and  impatient. 

Over  the  pale,  serious  face  of  the  nun  there  flitted  a  smile 
in  which  there  was  certainly  the  ghost  of  sarcasm. 

"  All  sensitivene''  *~"d  tenderness  of  heart,  you  see  !  "  slit 
said,  in  her  chill,  p«^ionless  tones,  which,  icy  as  they  were. 


244-  VENDETTA  I 

somehow  conveyed  to  my  ear  another  meaning  than  that  im- 
plied by  the  words  she  uttered.  "  We  cannot  perhaps  un- 
derstand the  extreme  delicacy  of  her  feelings,  and  we  fail  to 
do  justice  to  them." 

Here  Nina  opened  her  eyes,  and  looked  at  us  with  piteous 
plaintiveness,  while  her  bosom  heaved  with  those  long,  deep 
sighs  which  are  the  finishing  chords  of  the  Sonata  Hysteria. 

"  You  are  better,  I  trust  ?  "  continued  the  nun,  without  any 
sympathy  in  her  monotonous  accents,  and  addressing  her 
with  some  reserve.  "  You  have  greatly  alarmed  the  Count 
Oliva." 

"  I  am  sorry "  began  Nina,  feebly. 

I  hastened  to  her  side. 

"  Pray  do  not  speak  of  it ! "  I  urged,  forcing  something 
like  a  lover's  ardor  into  my  voice.  "  I  regret  beyond 
measure  that  it  is  my  misfortune  to  have  hands  like  those  of 
your  late  husband !  I  assure  you  I  am  quite  miserable 
about  it.  Can  you  forgive  me  ? " 

She  was  recovering  quickly,  and  she  was  evidently  con- 
scious that  she  had  behaved  somewhat  foolishly.  She  smiled 
a  weak  pale  smile  ;  but  she  looked  very  scared,  worn  and  ill. 
She  rose  from  her  chair  slowly  and  languidly. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  to  my  room,"  she  said,  not  regarding 
Mere  Marguerite,  who  had  withdrawn  to  a  little  distance, 
and  who  stood  rigidly  erect,  immovably  featured,  with  her 
silver  crucifix  glittering  coldly  on  her  still  breast. 

"  Good-bye,  Cesare  1  Please  forget  my  stupidity,  and  write 
to  me  from  Avellino." 

I  took  her  outstretched  hand,  and  bowing  over  it,  touched 
it  gently  with  my  lips.  She  turned  toward  the  door,  when 
suddenly  a  mischievous  idea  seemed  to  enter  her  mind.  She 
looked  at  Madame  la  Vicaire  and  then  came  back  to  me. 

"  Addio,  amor  mio  /"  she  said,  with  a  sort  of  rapturous 
emphasis,  and  throwing  her  arms  round  my  neck  she  kissed 
me  almost  passionately. 

Then  she  glanced  maliciously  at  the  nun,  who  had  lowered 
her  eyes  till  they  appeared  fast  shut,  and  breaking  into  a  low 
peal  of  indolently  amused  laughter,  waved  her  hand  to  me, 
and  left  the  room. 

I  was  somewhat  confused.  The  suddenness  and  warmth 
of  her  caress  had  been,  I  knew,  a  mere  monkeyish  trick,  de- 
signed to  vex  the  religious  scruples  of  Mere  Marguerite.  I 
knew  not  what  to  say  to  the  stately  woman  who  remained 
confronting  me  with  downcast  eyes  and  lips  that  moved 


VENDETTA!  245 

dumbly  as  though  in  prayer.  As  the  door  closed  after  my 
wife's  retreating  figure,  the  nun  looked  up  ;  there  was  a  slight 
flush  on  her  pallid  cheeks,  and  to  my  astonishment,  tears 
glittered  on  her  dark  lashes. 

"  Madame,"  I  began,  earnestly,  "  I  assure  you " 

"  Say  nothing,  signor,"  she  interrupted  me  with  a  slight 
deprecatory  gesture  ;  "  it  is  quite  unnecessary.  To  mock  a 
religieuse  is  a  common  amusement  with  young  girls  and  women 
of  the  world.  I  am  accustomed  to  it,  though  I  feel  its 
cruelty  more  than  I  ought  to  do.  Ladies  like  the  Countess 
Romani  think  that  we — we,  the  sepulchers  of  womanhood — 
sepulchers  that  we  have  emptied  and  cleansed  to  the  best  of 
our  ability,  so  that  they  may  more  fittingly  hold  the  body  of 
the  crucified  Christ ;  these  grandes  dames,  I  say,  fancy  that 
we  are  ignorant  of  all  they  know — that  we  cannot  understand 
love,  tenderness  or  passion.  They  never  reflect — how  should 
they  ? — that  we  also  have  had  our  histories — histories,  per- 
haps, that  would  make  angels  weep  for  pity  !  I,  even  I " 

and  she  struck  her  breast  fiercely,  then  suddenly  recollecting 
herself,  she  continued  coldly :  "  The  rule  of  our  convent, 
signor,  permits  no  visitor  to  remain  longer  than  one  hour — 
that  hour  has  expired.  I  will  summon  a  sister  to  show  you 
the  way  out." 

"  Wait  one  instant,  madame,"  I  said,  feeling  that  to  enact 
my  part  thoroughly  I  ought  to  attempt  to  make  some  defense 
of  Nina's  conduct ;  "  permit  me  to  say  a  word  !  Myfanctt 
is  very  young  and  thoughtless.  I  really  cannot  think  that 
her  very  innocent  parting  caress  to  me  had  anything  in  it 
that  was  meant  to  purposely  annoy  you." 

The  nun  glanced  at  me — her  eyes  flashed  disdainfully. 

"  You  think  it  was  all  affection  for  you,  no  doubt,  signor  ? 

very  natural  supposition,  and — I  should  be  sorry  to  un- 
deceive you." 

She  paused  a  moment  and  then  resumed  : 

"  You  seem  an  earnest  man — may  be  you  are  destined  to 
be  the  means  of  saving  Nina ;  I  could  say  much — yet  it  is 
wise  to  be  silent.  If  you  love  her  do  not  flatter  her ;  her 
overweening  vanity  is  her  ruin.  A  firm,  wise,  ruling  master- 
hand  may  perhaps — who  knows  ? "  She  hesitated  and  sighed, 
then  added,  gently,  "Farewell,  signor!  Benedicite /"  and 
making  the  sign  of  the  cross  as  I  respectfully  bent  my  head 
to  receive  her  blessing,  she  passed  noiselessly  from  the 
room. 

One  moment  later,  and  a  lame  and  aged  lay-sister  came  tp 


246  VENDETTA! 

escort  me  to  the  gate.  As  I  passed  down  the  stone  corridor 
a  side  door  opened  a  very  little  way,  and  two  fair  young  faces 
peeped  out  at  me.  For  an  instant  I  saw  four  laughing  bright 
eyes  ;  I  heard  a  smothered  voice  say,  "  Oh  !  c'est  un  vieux 
papa  /  "  and  then  my  guide,  who  though  lame  was  not  blind, 
perceived  the  opened  door  and  shut  it  with  an  angry  bang, 
which,  however,  did  not  drown  the  ringing  merriment  that 
echoed  from  within.  On  reaching  the  outer  gates  I  turned 
to  my  venerable  companion,  and  laying  four  twenty-franc 
pieces  in  her  shriveled  palm,  I  said  : 

"  Take  these  to  the  reverend  mother  for  me,  and  ask  that 
mass  may  be  said  in  the  chapel  to-morrow  for  the  repose  of 
the  soul  of  him  whose  name  is  written  here." 

And  I  gave  her  Guido  Ferrari's  visiting-card,  adding  in 
lower  and  more  solemn  tones  : 

"  He  met  with  a  sudden  and  unprepared  death.  Of  your 
charity,  pray  also  for  the  man  who  killed  him  ! " 

The  old  woman  looked  startled,  and  crossed  herself  de- 
voutly; but  she  promised  that  my  wishes  should  be  ful- 
filled, and  I  bade  her  farewell  and  passed  out,  the  convent 
gates  closing  with  a  dull  clang  behind  me.  I  walked  on  a 
few  yards,  and  then  paused,  looking  back.  What  a  peace- 
ful home  it  seemed ;  how  calm  and  sure  a  retreat,  with  the 
white  Noisette  roses  crowning  its  ancient  gray  walls  !  Yet 
what  embodied  curses  were  pent  up  in  there  in  the  shape  of 
girls  growing  to  be  women ;  women  for  whom  all  the  care, 
stern  training  and  anxious  solicitude  of  the  nuns  would  be 
unavailing;  women  who  would  come  forth  from  even  that 
abode  of  sanctity  with  vile  natures  and  animal  impulses,  and 
who  would  hereafter,  while  leading  a  life  of  vice  and  hypo- 
crisy, hold  up  this  very  strictness  of  their  early  education  as 
proof  of  their  unimpeachable  innocence  and  virtue !  To 
such,  what  lesson  is  learned  by  the  daily  example  of  the  nuns 
who  mortify  their  flesh,  fast,  pray  and  weep  ?  No  lesson  at 
all — nothing  save  mockery  and  contempt.  To  a  girl  in  the 
heyday  of  youth  and  beauty  the  life  of  a  religieuse  seems 
ridiculous.  "  The  poor  nuns !  "  she  says,  with  a  laugh ; 
they  are  so  ignorant.  Their  time  is  over — mine  has  not  yet 
begun."  Few,  very  few,  among  the  thousands  of  young 
women  who  leave  the  scene  of  their  quiet  schooldays  for  the 
social  whirligig  of  the  world,  ever  learn  to  take  life  in  earnest, 
love  in  earnest,  sorrow  in  earnest.  To  most  of  them  life  is 
a  large  dressmaking  and  millinery  establishment;  love  a 
question  of  money  and  diamonds  ;  sorrow  a  solemn  calcula- 


VENDETTA  f  247 

tion  as  to  now  much  or  how  little  mourning  is  considered 
becoming  or  fashionable.  And  for  creatures  such  as  these 
we  men  work — work  till  our  hairs  are  gray  and  our  backs 
bent  with  toil — work  till  all  the  joy  and  zest  of  living  has 
gone  from  us,  and  our  reward  is — what  ?  Happiness  ?— 
seldom.  Infidelity  ? — often.  Ridicule  ?  Truly  we  ought  to 
be  glad  if  we  are  only  ridiculed  and  thrust  back  to  occupy 
the  second  place  in  our  own  houses ;  our  lady-wives  call  that 
"  kind  treatment."  Is  there  a  married  woman  living  who 
does  not  now  and  then  throw  a  small  stone  of  insolent  satire 
at  her  husband  when  his  back  is  turned  ?  What,  madam e  ? 
You,  who  read  these  words — you  say  with  indignation  : 
"  Certainly  there  is,  and  /  am  that  woman  !  "  Ah,  truly  ?  I 
salute  you  profoundly  ! — you  are,  no  doubt,  the  one  excep- 
tion ! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

AVELLINO  is  one  of  those  dreamy,  quiet  and  picturesque 
towns  which  have  not  as  yet  been  desecrated  by  the  Vandal 
tourist.  Persons  holding  "through  tickets"  from  Messrs. 
Cook  or  Gaze  do  not  stop  there — there  are  no  "  sights  "  save 
the  old  sanctuary  called  Monte  Virgine  standing  aloft  on  its 
rugged  hill,  with  all  the  memories  of  its  ancient  days  clinging 
to  it  like  a  wizard's  cloak,  and  wrapping  it  in  a  sort  of  mys- 
terious meditative  silence.  It  can  look  back  through  a  vista 
of  eventful  years  to  the  eleventh  century,  when  it  was  erected, 
so  the  people  say,  on  the  ruins  of  a  temple  of  Cybele.  But 
what  do  the  sheep  and  geese  that  are  whipped  abroad  in 
herds  by  the  drovers  Cook  and  Gaze  know  of  Monte  Virgine 
or  Cybele?  Nothing — an  d  they  care  less  ;  and  quiet  Avellino 
.escapes  from  their  depredations,  thankful  that  it  is  not 
marked  on  the  business  map  of  the  drovers'  "  runs.'"  jShut 
in  by  the  lofty  Apennines,  built  on  the  slope  of  the  hill  that 
winds  gently  down  into  a  green  and  fruitful  valley  through 
which  the  river  Sabato  rushes  and  gleams  white  against  cleft 
rocks  that  look  like  war-worn  and  deserted  castles,  a  drowsy 
peace  encircles  it,  and  a  sort  of  stateliness,  which,  compared 
with  the  riotous  fun  and  folly  of  Naples  only  thirty  miles 
away,  is  as  though  the  statue  of  a  nude  Egeria  were  placed 
in  rivalry  with  the  painted  waxen  image  of  a  half-dressed 
ballet-dancer.  Few  lovelier  sights  are  to  be  seen  in  nature 
than  a  sunset  from  one  of  the  smaller  hills  round 


24S  VENDETTA  1 

when  the  peaks  of  the  Apennines  seem  to  catch  fire  from  the 
flaming  clouds,  and  below  them,  the  valleys  are  full  of  those 
tender  purple  and  gray  shadows  that  one  sees  on  the  canvases 
of  Salvator  Rosa,  while  the  town  itself  looks  like  a  bronzed 
carving  on  an  old  shield,  outlined  clearly  against  the  dazzling 
luster  of  the  sky.  To  this  retired  spot  I  came — glad  to  rest 
for  a  time  from  my  work  of  vengeance — glad  to  lay  dowa  my 
burden  of  bitterness  for  a  brief  space,  and  become,  as  it 
were,  human  again,  in  the  sight  of  the  near  mountains.  For 
within  their  close  proximity,  things  common,  things  mean 
seem  to  slip  from  the  soul — a  sort  of  largeness  pervades  the 
thoughts,  the  cramping  prosiness  of  daily  life  has  no  room  to 
assertjts  sway — a  grand  hush  falls  on  the  stormy  waters  of 
passion,  and  like  a  chidden  babe  the  strong  man  stands, 
dwarfed  to  an  infinite  littleness  in  his  own  sight,  before  those 
majestic  monarchs  of  the  landscape  whose  large  brows  are 
crowned  with  the  blue  circlet  of  heaven. 

I  took  up  my  abode  in  a  quiet,  almost  humble  lodging, 
living  simply,  and  attended  only  by  Vincenzo.  I  was  tired 
of  the  ostentation  I  had  been  forced  to  practice  in  Naples  in 
order  to  attain  my  ends — and  it  was  a  relief  to  me  to  be  fora 
time  as  though  I  were  a  poor  man.  The  house  in  which  I 
found  rooms  that  suited  me  was  a  ramblingly  built,  pictur- 
esque little  place,  situated  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and 
the  woman  who  owned  it,  was,  in  her  way,  a  character.  She 
was  a  Roman,  she  told  me,  with  pride  flashing  in  her  black 
eyes — I  could  guess  that  at  once  by  her  strongly  marked 
features,  her  magnificently  molded  figure,  and  her  free,  firm 
tread — that  step  which  is  swift  without  being  hasty,  which  is 
the  manner  born  of  Rome.  She  told  me  her  history  in  a  few 
words,  with  such  eloquent  gestures  that  she  seemed  to  live 
through  it  again  as  she  spoke  :  her  husband  had  been  a 
worker  in  a  marble  quarry — one  of  his  fellows  had  let  a  huge 
piece  of  the  rock  fall  on  him,  and  he  was  crushed  to  death. 

"  And  well  do  I  know,"  she  said,  "  that  he  killed  my  Toni 
purposely,  for  he  would  have  loved  me  had  he  dared.  But  I 
am  a  common  woman,  see  you — and  it  seems  to  me  one  can- 
not lie.  And  when  my  love's  poor  body  was  scarce  covered 
in  the  earth,  that  miserable  one — the  murderer — came  to  me 
—he  offered  marriage.  I  accused  him  of  his  crime — he  de- 
nied it — he  said  the  rock  slipped  from  his  hands,  he  knew 
not  how.  I  struck  him  on  the  mouth,  and  bade  him  leave 
my  sight  and  take  my  curse  with  him  !  He  is  dead  now — and 
surely  if  the  saints  have  heard  me,  his  soul  is  not  in  heaven  J  " 


VENDETTA !  249 

Thus  she  spoke  with  flashing  eyes  and  purposeful  energy, 
while  with  her  strong  brown  arms  she  threw  open  the  wide 
casement  of  the  sitting-room  I  had  taken,  and  bade  me  view 
her  orchard.  It  was  a  fresh  green  strip  of  verdure  and 
foliage — about  eight  acres  of  good  land,  planted  entirely  with 
apple-trees. 

"  Yes,  truly  ! "  she  said,  showing  her  white  teeth  in  a  pleased 
smile  as  I  made  the  admiring  remark  she  expected.  "  Avel- 
lino  has  long  had  a  name  for  its  apples — but,  thanks  to  the 
Holy  Mother,  I  think  in  the  season  there  is  no  fruit  in  all 
the  neighborhood  finer  than  mine.  The  produce  of  it  brings 
me  almost  enough  to  live  upon — that  and  the  house,  when  I 
can  find  signori  willing  to  dwell  with  me.  But  few  strangers 
come  hither ;  sometimes  an  artist,  sometimes  a  poet — such 
as  these  are  soon  tired  of  gayety,  and  are  glad  to  rest.  To 
common  persons  I  would  not  open  my  door — not  for  pride, 
ah,  no !  but  when  one  has  a  girl,  one  cannot  be  too  careful." 

'*  You  have  a  daughter,  then  ?  " 

Her  fierce  eyes  softened. 

"  One — my  Lilla.  I  call  her  my  blessing,  and  too  good 
for  me.  Often  I  fancy  that  it  is  because  she  tends  them  that 
the  trees  bear  so  well,  and  the  apples  are  so  sound  and  sweet ! 
And  when  she  drives  the  load  of  fruit  to  market,  and  sits  so 
smilingly  behind  the  team,  it  seems  to  me  that  her  very  face 
brings  luck  to  the  sale." 

I  smiled  at  the  mother's  enthusiasm,  and  sighed.  I  had  no 
fair  faiths  left — I  could  not  even  believe  in  Lilla.  My  land- 
lady, Signora  Monti  as  she  was  called,  saw  that  I  looked 
fatigued,  and  left  me  to  myself — and  during  my  stay  I  saw 
very  little  of  her,  Vincenzo  constituting  himself  my  major- 
domo,  or  rather  becoming  for  my  sake  a  sort  of  amiable  slave, 
always  looking  to  the  smallest  details  of  my  comfort,  and 
studying  my  wishes  with  an  anxious  solicitude  that  touched 
while  it  gratified  me.  I  had  been  fully  three  days  in  my  re- 
treat before  he  ventured  to  enter  upon  any  conversation  with 
me,  for  he  had  observed  that  I  always  sought  to  be  alone, 
that  1  took  long,  solitary  rambles  through  the  woods  and 
across  the  hills — and,  not  daring  to  break  through  my  taci- 
turnity, he  had  contented  himself  by  merely  attending  to  my 
material  comforts  in  silence.  One  afternoon,  however,  after 
clearing  away  the  remains  of  my  light  luncheon,  he  lingered 
in  the  room. 

"  The  eccellenza  has  not  yet  seen  Lilla  Monti  ?  "  he  asked, 
JifsiUtingly, 


250  VENDETTA! 

I  looked  at  him  in  some  surprise.  There  was  a  blush  on 
his  olive-tinted  cheeks  and  an  unusual  sparkle  in  his  eyes. 
For  the  first  time  I  realized  that  this  valet  of  mine  w;is  a 
handsome  young  fellow. 

"  Seen  Lilla  Monti !  "  I  repeated,  half  absently  ;  "oh,  you 
mean  the  child  of  the  landlady?  No,  I  have  not  seen  her. 
Why  do  you  ask?" 

Vincenzo  smiled.  "Pardon,  eccellenza  !  but  she  is  beau- 
tiful, and  there  is  a  saying  in  my  province:  Be  the  heart 
heavy  as  stone,  the  sight  of  a  fair  face  will  lighten  it !  " 

I  gave  an  impatient  gesture.  "  All  folly,  Vincenzo  !  Beauty 
is  the  curse  of  the  world.  Read  .history,  and  you  shall  find 
the  greatest  conquerors  and  sages  ruined  and  disgraced  by 
its  snares." 

He  nodded  gravely.  He  probably  thought  of  the  an- 
nouncement I  had  made  at  the  banquet  of  my  own  approach- 
ing marriage,  and  strove  to  reconcile  it  with  the  apparent 
inconsistency  of  my  present  observation.  But  he  was  too 
discreet  to  utter  his  mind  aloud — he  merely  said  : 

"  No  doubt  you  are  right,  eccellenza.  Still  one  is  glad  to 
see  the  roses  bloom,  and  the  stars  shine,  and  the  foam-bells 
sparkle  on  the  waves — so  one  is  glad  to  see  Lilla  Monti." 

I  turned  round  in  my  chair  to  observe  him  more  closely — 
the  flush  deepened  on  his  cheek  as  I  regarded  him.  I 
laughed  with  a  bitter  sadness. 

"  In  love,  amico,  art  thou  ?  So  soon  ! — three  days — and 
thou  hast  fallen  a  prey  to  the  smile  of  Lilla  !  I  am  sorry  for 
thee ! " 

He  interrupted  me  eagerly. 

"  The  eccellenza  is  in  error  !  I  would  not  dare — she  is 
too  innocent — she  knows  nothing  !  She  is  like  a  little  bird 
in  the  nest,  so  soft  and  tender — a  word  of  love  would  frighten 
her ;  I  should  be  a  coward  to  utter  it." 

Well,  well !  I  thought,  what  was  the  use  of  sneering  at  the 
poor  fellow  !  Why,  because  my  own  love  had  turned  to  ashes 
in  my  grasp,  should  I  mock  at  those  who  fancied  they  had 
found  the  golden  fruit  of  the  Hesperides  ?  Vincenzo,  once  a 
soldier,  now  half  courier,  half  valet,  was  something  of  a  poet 
at  heart;  he  had  the  grave  meditative  turn  of  mind  common 
to  Tuscans,  together  with  that  amorous  fire  that  ever  burns 
under  their  lightly  worn  mask  of  seeming  reserve. 

I  roused  myself  to  appear  interested. 

"  I  see,  Vincenzo,"  I  said,  with  a  kindly  air  of  banter,  "  that 
the  sight  of  Lilla  Monti  more  than  compensates  you  for  that 


VENDETTA!  251 

portion  of  the  Neapolitan  carnival  which  you  lose  by  being 
here.  But  why  you  should  wish  me  to  behold  this  paragon 
of  maidens  I  know  not,  unless  you  would  have  me  regret  my 
own  lost  youth." 

A  curious  and  perplexed  expression  flitted  over  his  face. 
At  last  he  said  firmly,  as  though  his  mind  were  made  up  : 

"  The  eccellenza  must  pardon  me  for  seeing  what  perhaps 
I  ought  not  to  have  seen,  but " 

"  But  what  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Eccellenza,  you  have  not  lost  your  youth." 

I  turned  my  head  toward  him  again — he  was  looking  at  me 
in  some  alarm — he  feared  some  outburst  of  anger. 

"  Well !  "  I  said,  calmly.  "  That  is  your  idea,  is  it  ?  and 
why  ? " 

"  Eccellenza,  I  saw  you  without  your  spectacles  that  day 
when  you  fought  with  the  unfortunate  Signer  Ferrari.  I 
watched  you  when  you  fired.  Your  eyes  are  beautiful  arrd 
terrible — the  eyes  of  a  young  man,  though  your  hair  is  white." 

Quietly  I  took  off  my  glaases  and  laid  them  on  the  table 
beside  me.  , 

"  As  you  have  seen  me  once  without  them,  you  can  see  me 
again,"  I  observed,  gently.  "  I  wear  them  for  a  special  pur- 
pose. Here  in  Avellino  the  purpose  does  not  hold.  Thus 
far  I  confide  in  you.  But  beware  how  you  betray  my  confi- 
dence." 

"  Eccellenza  !  "  cried  Vincenzo,  in  truly  pained  accents,  and 
with  a  grieved  look. 

I  rose  and  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  There  !  I  was  wrong — forgive  me.  You  are  honest ;  you 
have  served  your  country  well  enough  to  know  the  value  of 
fidelity  and  duty.  But  when  you  say  I  have  not  lost  my  youth, 
you  are  wrong,  Vincenzo  !  I  have  lost  it — it  has  been  killed 
within  me  by  a  great  sorrow.  The  strength,  the  suppleness 
of  limb,  the  brightness  of  eye,  these  are  mere  outward  things  : 
but  in  the  heart  and  soul  are  the  chill  and  drear  bitterness  of 
deserted  age.  Nay,  do  not  smile ;  I  am  in  truth  very  old — so 
old  that  I  tire  of  my  length  of  days ;  yet  again,  not  too  old  to 
appreciate  your  affection,  amico,  and  " — here  I  forced  a  faint 
smile — "  when  I  see  the  maiden  Lilla,  I  will  tell  you  frankly 
what  I  think  of  her." 

Vincenzo  stooped  his  head,  caught  my  hand  within  his  own, 
and  kissed  it,  then  left  the  room  abruptly,  to  hide  the  tears 
that  my  words  had  brought  to  his  eyes.  He  was  sorry  for  me, 
J  could  see,  and  I  judged  him  rightly  when  I  thought  that  th§ 


252  VENDETTA! 

very  mystery  surrounding  me  increased  his  attachment.  On 
the  whole,  I  was  glad  he  had  seen  me  undisguised,  as  it  was 
a  relief  to  me  to  be  without  my  smoked  glasses  for  a  time,  and 
during  all  the  rest  of  my  stay  at  Avellino  I  never  wore  them 
once. 

One  day  I  saw  Lilla.  I  had  strolled  up  to  a  quaint  church 
situated  on  a  rugged  hill  and  surrounded  by  fine  old  chestnut- 
trees,  where  there  was  a  picture  of  the  Scourging  of  Christ, 
said  to  have  been  the  work  of  Fra  Angelico.  The  little 
sanctuary  was  quite  deserted  when  1  entered  it,  and  I  paused 
on  the  threshold,  touched  by  the  simplicity  of  the  place  and 
soothed  by  the  intense  silence.  I  walked  on  my  tiptoe  up  to 
the  corner  where  hung  the  picture  I  had  come  to  see,  and  as 
I  did  so  a  girl  passed  me  with  a  light  step,  carrying  a  basket 
of  fragrant  winter  narcissi  and  maiden-hair  fern.  Something  in 
her  graceful,  noiseless  movements  caused  me  to  look  after  her ; 
but  she  had  turned  her  back  to  me  and  was  kneeling  at  the 
shrine  consecrated  to  the  Virgin,  having  placed  her  flowers  on 
the  lowest  step  of  the  altar.  She  was  dressed  in  peasant  cos- 
tume— a  simple,  short  blue  skirt  and  scarlet  bodice,  relieved 
by  the  white  kerchief  that  was  knotted  about  her  shoulders; 
and  round  her  small  well-shaped  head  the  rich  chestnut  hair 
was  coiled  in  thick  shining  braids. 

I  felt  that  I  must  see  her  face,  and  for  that  reason  went 
back  to  the  church  door  and  waited  till  she  should  pass  out. 
Very  soon  she  came  toward  me,  with  the  same  light  timid 
step  that  I  had  often  before  noticed,  and  her  fair  young 
features  were  turned  fully  upon  me.  What  was  there  in  those 
clear  candid  eyes  that  made  me  involuntarily  bow  my  head  in 
a  reverential  salutation  as  she  passed  ?  I  know  not.  It  was 
not  beauty — for  though  the  child  was  lovely  I  had  seen 
lovelier ;  it  was  something  inexplicable  and  rare — something 
of  a  maidenly  composure  and  sweet  dignity  that  I  had  never 
beheld  on  any  woman's  face  before.  Her  cheeks  flushed 
softly  as  she  modestly  returned  my  salute,  and  when  she  was 
once  outside  the  church  door  she  paused,  her  small  white 
fingers  still  clasping  the  carven  brown  beads  of  her  rosary. 
She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  spoke  shyly  yet  brightly  : 

"  If  the  eccellenza  will  walk  yet  a  little  further  up  the  hill 
he  will  see  a  finer  view  of  the  mountains." 

Something  familiar  in  her  look — a  sort  of  reflection  of  her 
mother's  likeness — made  me  sure  of  her  identity.  I  smiled, 

"  Ah  !  you  are  Lilla  Monti  ? " 

She  blushed  again, 


VENDETTA  I  253 

"Si,  signoi-.     lam  Lilla." 

I  let  my  eyes  dwell  on  her  searchingly  and  almost  sadly. 
Vincenzo  was  right :  the  girl  was  beautiful,  not  with  the 
forced  hot-house  beauty  of  the  social  world  and  its  artificial 
constraint,  but  with  the  loveliness  and  fresh  radiance  which 
nature  gives  to  those  of  her  cherished  ones  who  dwell  with 
her  in  peace.  I  had  seen  many  exquisite  women — women  of 
Juno-like  form  and  face — women  whose  eyes  were  basilisks  to 
draw  and  compel  the  souls  of  men — but  I  had  never  seen 
any  so  spiritually  fair  as  this  little  peasant  maiden,  who 
stood  fearlessly  yet  modestly  regarding  me  with  the  innocent 
inquiry  of  a  child  who  suddenly  sees  something  new,  to  which 
it  is  unaccustomed.  She  was  a  little  fluttered  by  my  earnest 
gaze,  and  with  a  pretty  courtesy  turned  to  descend  the  hill. 
I  said  gently  : 

"  You  are  going  home,  fauciulla  mia  ?  " 

The  kind  protecting  tone  in  which  I  spoke  reassured  her. 
She  answered  readily : 

"  Si  signer.  My  mother  waits  for  me  to  help  her  with  the 
eccellenza's  dinner." 

I  advanced  and  took  the  little  hand  that  held  the  rosary. 

"  What !  "  I  exclaimed,  playfully,  "  do  you  still  work  hard, 
little  Lilla,  even  when  the  apple  season  is  over  ?  " 

She  laughed  musically. 

"  Oh  !  I  love  work.  It  is  good  for  the  temper.  People 
are  so  cross  when  their  hands  are  idle.  And  many  are  ill  for 
the  same  reason.  Yes,  truly  ! "  and  she  nodded  her  head 
with  grave  importance,  "  it  is  often  so.  Old  Pietro,  the  cob- 
bler, took  to  his  bed  when  he  had  no  shoes  to  mend — yes ; 
he  sent  for  the  priest  and  said  he  would  die,  not  for  want  of 
money — oh  no  !  he  has  plenty,  he  is  quite  rich — but  because 
he  had  nothing  to  do.  So  my  mother  and  I  found  some 
shoes  with  holes,  and  took  them  to  him  ;  he  sat  up  in  bed  to 
mend  them,  and  now  he  is  as  well  as  ever !  And  we  are 
careful  to  give  him  something  always." 

She  laughed  again,  and  again  looked  grave. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  she  said,  with  a  wise  shake  of  her  little 
glossy  head,  "  one  cannot  live  without  work.  My  mother 
says  that  good  women  are  never  tired,  it  is  only  wicked  per- 
sons who  are  lazy.  And  that  reminds  me  I  must  make 
haste  to  return  and  prepare  the  eccellenza's  coffee." 

"  Do  you  make  my  coffee,  little  one  ?  "  I  asked,  "  and  does 
not  Vincenzo  help  you  ?  " 

The  faintest  suspicion  of  a  blush  tinged  her  pretty  cheeks. 


254  VENDETTA .' 

"  Oh,  he  is  very  good,  Vincenzo,"  she  said,  demurely, 
with  downcast  eyes;  "he  is  what  we  call  buon'  amico,  yes, 
indeed  !  But  he  is  often  glad  when  I  make  coffee  for  him 
also  ;  he  likes  it  so  much  !  He  says  I  do  it  so  well !  But 
perhaps  the  eccellenza  will  prefer  Vincenzo  ?  " 

I  laughed.  She  was  so  naive,  so  absorbed  in  her  little 
duties — such  a  child  altogether. 

"  Nay,  Lilla,  I  am  proud  to  think  you  make  anything  for 
me.  I  shall  enjoy  it  more  now  that  I  know  what  kind  hands 
have  been  at  work.  But  you  must  not  spoil  Vincenzo — you 
will  turn  his  head  if  you  make  his  coffee  too  often." 

She  looked  surprised.  She  did  not  understand.  Evi- 
dently to  her  mind  Vincenzo  was  nothing  but  a  good-natured 
young  fellow,  whose  palate  could  be  pleased  by  her  culinary 
skill ;  she  treated  him,  I  dare  say,  exactly  as  she  would  have 
treated  one  of  her  own  sex.  She  seemed  to  think  over 
my  words,  as  one  who  considers  a  conundrum,  then  she 
apparently  gave  it  up  as  hopeless,  and  shook  her  head 
lightly  as  though  dismissing  the  subject. 

"  Will  the  eccellenza  visit  the  Punto  d'Angelo  ? "  she  said 
brightly,  as  she  turned  to  go. 

I  had  never  heard  of  this  place,  and  asked  her  to  what  she 
alluded. 

"  It  is  not  far  from  here,"  she  explained,  "  it  is  the  view  I 
spoke  of  before.  Just  a  little  further  up  the  hill  you  will  see 
a  flat  gray  rock,  covered  with  blue  gentians.  No  one  knows 
how  they  grow — they  are  always  there,  blooming  in  summer 
and  winter.  But  it  said  that  one  of  God's  own  great  angels 
comes  once  in  every  month  at  midnight  to  bless  the  Monte 
Vergine,  and  that  he  stands  on  that  rock.  And  of  course 
wherever  the  angels  tread  there  are  flowers,  and  no  storm 
can  destroy  them — not  even  an  avalanche.  That  is  why  the 
people  call  it  the  Punto  d'Angelo.  It  will  please  you  to  see 
it,  eccellenza — it  is  but  a  walk  of  a  little  ten  minutes." 

And  with  a  smile,  and  a  courtesy  as  pretty  and  as  light  as 
a  flower  might  make  to  the  wind,  she  left  me,  half  running, 
half  dancing  down  the  hill,  and  singing  aloud  for  sheer  happi- 
ness and  innocence  of  heart.  Her  pure  lark-like  notes  floated 
upward  toward  me  where  I  stood,  wistfully  watching  her  as 
she  disappeared.  The  warm  afternoon  sunshine  caught 
lovingly  at  her  chestnut  hair,  turning  it  to  a  golden  bronze, 
and  touched  up  the  whiteness  of  her  throat  and  arms,  and 
brightened  the  scarlet  of  her  bodice,  as  she  descended  the 
grassy  slope,  and  was  at  last  lost  to  my  view  amid  the  foliage 
of  the  surrounding  trees. 


VENDETTA  I  255 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

I  SIGHED  heavily  as  I  resumed  my  walk.  I  realized  all 
that  I  had  lost.  This  lovely  child  with  her  simple  fresh 
nature,  why  had  I  not  met  such  a  one  and  wedded  her  instead 
of  the  vile  creature  who  had  been  my  soul's  undoing  ?  The 
answer  came  swiftly.  Even  if  I  had  seen  her  when  I  was 
free,  I  doubt  if  I  should  have  known  her  value.  We  men 
of  the  world  who  have  social  positions  to  support,  we  see 
little  or  nothing  in  the  peasant  type  of  womanhood  ;  we  must 
marry  "  ladies,"  so-called — educated  girls  who  are  as  well 
versed  in  the  world's  ways  as  ourselves,  if  not  more  so. 
And  so  we  get  the  Cleopatras,  the  Du  Barrys,  the  Pom- 
padours, while  unspoiled  maidens  such  as  Lilla  too  often 
become  the  household  drudges  of  common  mechanics  or 
day-laborers,  living  and  dying  in  the  one  routine  of  hard 
work,  and  often  knowing  and  caring  for  nothing  better  than 
the  mountain-hut,  the  farm-kitchen,  or  the  covered  stall  in 
the  market-place.  Surely  it  is  an  ill-balanced  world — so 
many  mistakes  are  made  ;  Fate  plays  us  so  many  apparently 
unnecessary  tricks,  and  we  are  all  of  us  such  blind  madmen, 
knowing  not  whither  we  are  going  from  one  day  to  another  ! 
I  am  told  that  it  is  no  longer  fashionable  to  believe  in  a 
devil — but  I  care  nothing  for  fashion  !  A  devil  there  is  I 
am  sure,  who  for  some  inscrutable  reason  has  a  share  in  the 
ruling  of  this  planet — a  devil  who  delights  in  mocking  us 
from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  And  perhaps  we  are  never  so 
hopelessly,  utterly  fooled  as  in  our  marriages  ! 

Occupied  in  various  thoughts,  I  scarcely  saw  where  I 
wandered,  till  a  flashing  glimmer  of  blue  blossoms  recalled 
me  to  the  object  of  my  walk.  I  had  reached  the  Punto 
d'Angelo.  It  was,  as  Lilla  had  said,  a  flat  rock  bare  in  every 
place  save  at  the  summit,  where  it  was  thickly  covered  with 
the  lovely  gentians,  flowers  that  are  rare  in  this  part  of  Italy. 
Here  then  the  fabled  angel  paused  in  his  flight  to  bless 
the  venerable  sanctuary  of  Monte  Vergine.  I  stopped  and 
looked  around  me.  The  view  was  indeed  superb — from  the 
leafy  bosom  of  the  valley,  the  green  hills  like  smooth,  un- 
dulating billows  rolled  upward,  till  their  emerald  verdure 
was  lost  in  the  dense  purple  shadows  and  tall  peaks  of  the 
Apennines ;  the  town  of  Avellino  lay  at  my  feet,  small  yet 


256  VENDETTA  ! 

clearly  defined  as  a  miniature  painting  on  porclain  ;  and  a 
little  further  beyond  and  above  me  rose  the  gray  tower  of  the 
Monte  Vergine  itself,  the  one  sad  and  solitary-looking  object 
in  all  the  luxuriant  riante  landscape. 

I  sat  down  to  rest,  not  as  an  intruder  on  the  angel's  flower- 
embroidered  throne,  but  »n  a  grassy  knoll  close  by.  And 
then  I  bethought  me  of  a  packet  I  had  received  from  Naples 
that  morning — a  packet  that  I  desired  yet  hesitated  to  open. 
It  had  been  sent  by  the  Marquis  D'Avencourt,  accompanied 
by  a  courteous  letter,  which  informed  me  that  Ferrari's  body 
had  been  privately  buried  with  all  the  last  religious  rites  in 
the  cemetery,  "  close  to  the  funeral  vault  of  the  Roman! 
family,"  wrote  D'Avencourt,  "  as,  from  all  we  can  hear  or 
discover,  such  seems  to  have  been  his  own  desire.  He  was, 
it  appears,  a  sort  of  adopted  brother  of  the  lately  deceased 
count,  and  on  being  informed  of  this  circumstance,  we  buried 
him  in  accordance  with  the  sentiments  he  would  no  doubt 
have  expressed  had  he  considered  the  possible  nearness  of 
his  own  end  at  the  time  of  the  combat." 

With  regard  to  the  packet  inclosed,  D'Avencourt  continued 
— "  The  accompanying  letters  were  found  in  Ferrari's  breast- 
pocket, and  on  opening  the  first  one,  in  the  expectation  of 
finding  some  clew  as  to  his  last  wishes,  we  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  you,  as  the  future  husband  of  the  lady  whose 
signature  and  handwriting  you  will  here  recognize,  should 
be  made  aware  of  the  contents,  not  only  for  your  own  sake, 
but  in  justice  to  the  deceased.  If  all  the  letters  are  of  the 
same  tone  as  the  one  I  unknowingly  opened,  I  have  no  doubt 
Ferrari  considered  himself  a  sufficiently  injured  man.  But 
of  that  you  will  judge  for  yourself,  though,  if  I  might  venture 
so  far  in  the  way  of  friendship,  I  should  recommend  you  to 
give  careful  consideration  to  the  inclosed  correspondence 
before  tying  the  matrimonial  knot  to  which  you  alluded  the 
other  evening.  It  is  nol  wise  to  walk  on  the  edge  of  a  pre- 
cipice with  one's  eyes  shut !  Captain  Ciabatti  was  the  first 
to  inform  me  of  what  I  now  know  for  a  fact — namely,  that 
Ferrari  left  a  will  in  which  everything  he  possessed  is  made 
over  unconditionally  to  the  Countess  Romani.  You  will  of 
course  draw  your  own  conclusions,  and  pardon  me  if  I  am 
guilty  of  trap  de  zele  in  your  service.  I  have  now  only  to  tell 
you  that  all  the  unpleasantness  of  this  affair  is  passing  over 
very  smoothly  and  without  scandal — I  have  taken  care  of 
that.  You  need  not  prolong  your  absence  further  than  you 
feePmclined,  and  I,  for  one,  shall  be  charmed  to  welcome 


VENDETTA!  357- 

you  back  to  Naples.     With  every  sentiment  of  the  highest 
consideration  and  regard,  I  am,  my  dear  conte, 

"  Your  very  true  friend  and  servitor, 

"PHILIPPE  D'AVENCOURT." 

I  folded  this  letter  carefully  and  put  it  aside.  The  little 
package  he  had  sent  me  lay  in  my  hand — a  bundle  of  neatly 
folded  letters  tied  together  with  a  narrow  ribbon,  and 
strongly  perfumed  with  the  faint  sickly  perfume  I  knew  and 
abhorred.  I  turned  them  over  and  over ;  the  edges  of  the 
note-paper  were  stained  with  blood — Guide's  blood — as 
though  in  its  last  sluggish  flowing  it  had  endeavored  to 
obliterate  all  traces  of  the  daintily  penned  lines  that  now 
awaited  my  perusal.  Slowly  I  untied  the  ribbon.  With 
methodical  deliberation  I  read  one  letter  after  the  other. 
They  were  all  from  Nina — all  written  to  Guido  while  he  was 
in  Rome,  some  of  them  bearing  the  dates  of  the  very  days 
when  she  had  feigned  to  love  me — me,  her  newly  accepted 
husband.  One  very  amorous  epistle  had  been  written  on 
the  self-same  evening  she  had  plighted  her  troth  to  me  ! 
Letters  burning  and  tender,  full  of  the  most  passionate  protes- 
tations of  fidelity,  overflowing  with  the  sweetest  terms  of  en- 
dearment ;  with  such  a  ring  of  truth  and  love  throughout 
them  that  surely  it  was  no  wonder  that  Guide's  suspicions 
were  all  unawakened,  and  that  he  had  reason  to  believe  him- 
self safe  in  his  fool's  paradise.  One  passage  in  this  poet- 
ical and  romantic  correspondence  fixed  my  attention  :  it  ran 
thus : 

"  Why  do  you  write  so  much  of  marriage  to  me,  Guido 
mio  ?  it  seems  to  my  mind  that  all  the  joy  of  loving  will  be 
taken  from  us  when  once  the  hard  world  knows  of  our 
passion.  If  you  become  my  husband  you  will  assuredly 
cease  to  be  my  lover,  and'that  would  break  my  heart.  Ah, 
my  best  beloved  !  I  desire  you  to  be  my  lover  always,  as 
you  were  when  Fabio  lived — why  bring  commonplace  matri- 
mony into  the  heaven  of  such  a  passion  as  ours  ? " 

I  studied  these  words  attentively.  Of  course  I  understood 
their  drift.  She  had  tried  to  feel  her  way  with  the  dead  man. 
She  had  wanted  to  marry  me,  and  yet  retain  Guido  for  her 
lonely  hours,  as  "  her  lover  always  !  "  Such  a  pretty,  ingen- 
ious plan  it  was  !  No  thief,  no  murderer  ever  laid  more 
cunning  schemes  than  she ;  but  the  law  looks  after  thieves 
and  murderers.  For  such  a  woman  as  this,  law  says, 
"  Divorce  her — that  is  your  best  remedy."  Divorce  her  I 


258  VENDETTA ! 

Let  the  criminal  go  scot-free !  Others  may  do  it  that  choose 
— I  have  different  ideas  of  justice  ! 

Tying  up  the  packet  of  letters  again,  with  their  sickening 
perfume  and  their  blood-stained  edges,  I  drew  out  the  last 
graciously  worded  missive  I  had  received  from  Nina.  Of 
course  I  heard  from  her  every  day — she  was  a  most  faithful 
correspondent !  The  same  affectionate  expressions  character- 
ized her  letters  to  me  as  those  that  had  deluded  her  dead 
lover — with  this  difference,  that  whereas  she  inveighed  much 
against  the  prosiness  of  marriage  to  Guido,  to  me  she  drew 
the  much  touching  pictures  of  her  desolate  condition  :  how 
lonely  she  had  felt  since  her  "  dear  husband's  "  death,  how 
rejoiced  she  was  to  think  that  she  was  soon  again  to  be  a 
happy  wife — the  wife  of  one  so  noble,  so  true,  so  devoted  as 
I  was !  She  had  left  the  convent  and  was  now  at  home — 
when  should  she  have  the  happiness  of  welcoming  me,  her 
best  beloved  Cesare,  back  to  Naples  ?  She  certainly  de- 
served some  credit  for  artistic  lying  ;  I  could  not  understand 
how  she  managed  it  so  well.  Almost  I  admired  her  skill, 
as  one  sometimes  admires  a  cool-headed  burglar,  who  has 
more  skill,  cunning,  and  pluck  than  his  comrades.  I  thought 
with  triumph  that  though  the  wording  of  Ferrari's  will  en- 
abled her  to  secure  all  other  letters  she  might  have  written 
to  him,  this  one  little  packet  of  documentary  evidence  was 
more  than  sufficient  for  my  purposes.  And  1  resolved  to  re- 
tain it  in  my  own  keeping  till  the  time  came  for  me  to  use  it 
against  her. 

And  how  about  D'Avencourt's  friendly  advice  concerning 
the  matrimonial  knot  ?  "  A  man  should  not  walk  on  the  edge 
of  a  precipice  with  his  eyes  shut."  Very  true.  But  if  his 
eyes  are  open,  and  he  has  his  enemy  by  the  throat,  the  edge 
of  a  precipice  is  a  convenient  position  for  hurling  that 
enemy  down  to  death  in  a  quiet  way,  that  the  world  need 
know  nothing  of  !  So  for  the  present  I  preferred  the  preci- 
pice to  walking  on  level  ground. 

I  rose  from  my  seat  near  the  Punto  d'Angelo.  It  was 
growing  late  in  the  afternoon.  From  the  little  church  below 
me  soft  bells  rang  out  the  Angelus,  and  with  them  chimed 
in  a  solemn  and  harsher  sound  from  the  turret  of  the  Monte 
Vergine.  I  lifted  my  hat  with  the  customary  reverence,  and 
stood  listening,  with  my  feet  deep  in  the  grass  and  scented 
thyme,  and  more  than  once  glanced  up  at  the  height  where- 
on the  venerable  sanctuary  held  its  post,  like  some  lonely 
old  god  of  memory  brooding  over  vanished  years.  There, 


VENDETTA ! 

tccording  to  tradition,  was  once  celebrated  the  worship  of 
the  many-breasted  Cybele  ;  down  that  very  slope  of  grass 
dotted  with  violets  had  rushed  the  howling,  naked  priests 
beating  their  discordant  drums  and  shrinking  their  laments 
for  the  loss  of  Atys,  the  beautiful  youth,  their  goddess's  par- 
amour. Infidelity  again  ! — even  in  this  ancient  legend,  what 
did  Cybele  care  for  old  Saturn,  whose  wife  she  was  ? 
Nothing,  less  than  nothing! — and  her  adorers  worshiped  not 
her  chastity,  but  her  faithlessness;  it  is  the  way  of  the  world 
to  this  day! 

The  bells  ceased  ringing;  I  descended  the  hill  and  returned 
homeward  through  a  shady  valley,  full  of  the  odor  of  pines 
and  bog-myrtle.  On  reaching  the  gate  of  the  Signora  Monti's 
humble  yet  picturesque  dwelling,  I  heard  the  sound  of 
laughter  and  clapping  of  hands,  and  looking  in  the  direction 
of  the  orchard,  I  saw  Vincenzo  hard  at  work,  his  shirt-sleeves 
rolled  up  to  the  shoulder,  splitting  some  goodly  logs  of  wood, 
while  Lilla  stood  beside  him,  merrily  applauding  and  encour- 
aging his  efforts.  He  seemed  quite  in  his  element,  and 
wielded  his  ax  with  a  regularity  and  vigor  I  should  scarcely 
have  expected  from  a  man  whom  I  was  accustomed  to  see 
performing  the  somewhat  effeminate  duties  of  a  valet-de- 
chambre.  I  watched  him  and  the  fair  girl  beside  him  for  a 
few  moments,  myself  unperceived. 

If  this  little  budding  romance  were  left  alone  it  would  ripen 
into  a  flower,  and  Vincenzo  would  be  a  happier  man  than  his 
master.  He  was  a  true  Tuscan,  from  the  very  way  he  handled 
his  wood-ax  ;  I  could  see  that  he  loved  the  life  of  the  hills 
and  fields — the  life  of  a  simple  farmer  and  fruit-grower,  full 
of  innocent  enjoyments,  as  sweet  as  the  ripe  apples  in  his 
orchard.  I  could  foresee  his  future  with  Lilla  beside  him. 
He  would  have  days  of  unwearying  contentment,  rendered 
beautiful  by  the  free  fresh  air  and  the  fragrance  of  flowers — 
his  evenings  would  slip  softly  by  to  the  tinkle  of  the  mando- 
lin, and  the  sound  of  his  wife  and  children's  singing. 

What  fairer  fate  could  a  man  desire  ? — what  life  more  cer- 
tain to  keep  health  in  the  body  and  peace  in  the  mind  ? 
Could  I  not  help  him  to  his  happiness,  I  wondered  ?  I,  who 
had  grown  stern  with  long  brooding  upon  my  vengeance — 
could  I  not  aid  in  bringing  joy  to  others  !  If  I  could,  my 
mind  would  be  somewhat  lightened  of  its  burden — a  burden 
grown  heavier  since  Guide's  death,  for  from  his  blood  had 
sprung  forth  a  new  group  of  Furies,  that  lashed  me  on  to  my 
task  with  scorpion  whips  of  redoubled  wrath  and  passionate 


260  VENDETTA! 

ferocity.  Yet  if  I  could  do  one  good  action  now — would  it 
not  be  as  a  star  shining  in  the  midst  of  my  soul's  storm  and 
darkness  ?  Just  then  Lilla  laughed — how  sweetly  ! — the 
laugh  of  a  very  young  child.  What  amused  her  now  ?  I 
looked,  and  saw  that  she  had  taken  the  ax  from  Vinccnzo, 
and  lifting  it  in  her  little  hands,  was  endeavoring  bravely  to 
imitate  his  strong  and  telling  stroke  ;  he  meanwhile  stood 
aside  with  an  air  of  smiling  superiority,  mingled  with  a  good 
deal  of  admiration  for  the  slight  active  figure  arrayed  in  the 
blue  kirtle  and  scarlet  bodice,  on  which  the  warm  rays  of  the 
late  sun  fell  with  so  much  amorous  tenderness.  Poor  little 
Lilla  !  A  penknife  would  have  made  as  much  impression  as 
her  valorous  blows  produced  on  the  inflexible,  gnarled,  knotty 
old  stump  she  essayed  to  split  in  twain.  Flushed  and  breath- 
less with  her  efforts,  she  looked  prettier  than  ever,  and  at  last, 
baffled,  she  resigned  her  ax  to  Vincenzo,  laughing  gayly  at 
her  incapacity  for  wood-cutting,  and  daintily  shaking  her 
apron  free  from  the  chips  and  dust,  till  a  call  from  her 
mother  caused  her  to  run  swiftly  into  the  house,  leaving 
Vincenzo  working  away  as  arduously  as  ever.  I  went  up  to 
him  ;  he  saw  me  approaching,  and  paused  in  his  labors  with 
an  air  of  slight  embarrassment. 

"  You  like  this  sort  of  work,  amico  ?  "  I  said,  gently. 

"  An  old  habit,  eccellenza — nothing  more.  It  reminds  me 
of  the  days  of  my  youth,  when  I  worked  for  my  mother. 
Ah  !  a  pleasant  place  it  was — the  old  home  just  above 
Fiesole."  His  eyes  grew  pensive  and  sad.  "It  is  all  gone 
now — finished.  That  was  before  I  became  a  soldier.  But 
one  thinks  of  it  sometimes." 

"  I  understand.  And  no  doubt  you  would  be  glad  to  re- 
turn to  the  life  of  your  boyhood  ? " 

He  looked  a  little  startled. 

"  Not  to  leave  you,  eccellenza  !  " 

I  smiled  rather  sadly.  "Not  to  leave  me?  Not  if  you 
wedded  Lilla  Monti  ?  " 

His  olive  cheek  flushed,  but  he  shook  his  head. 

"Impossible!    She  would  not  listen  tome.    She  is  a  child." 

"  She  will  soon  be  a  woman,  believe  me !  A  little  more  of 
your  company  will  make  her  so.  But  there  is  plenty  of  time. 
She  is  beautiful,  as  you  said  :  and  something  better  than  that, 
she  is  innocent — think  of  that,  Vincenzo !  Do  you  know 
how  rare  a  thing  innocence  is — in  a  woman  ?  Respect  it  as 
you  respect  God ;  let  her  young  life  be  sacred  to  you." 

He  glanced  upward  reverently. 


VENDETTA !  261 

"  Eccellenza,  I  would  as  soon  tear  the  Madonna  from  her 
altars  as  vex  or  frighten  Lilla  !  " 

I  smiled  and  said  no  more,  but  turned  into  the  house.  From 
that  moment  I  resolved  to  let  this  little  love-idye  have  a  fair 
chance  of  success.  Therefore  I  remained  at  Avellino  much 
longer  than  I  had  at  first  intended,  not  for  my  own  sake, 
but  for  Vincenzo's.  He  served  me  faithfully  ;  he  should  have 
his  reward.  I  took  a  pleasure  in  noticing  that  my  efforts  to 
promote  his  cause  were  not  altogether  wasted.  I  spoke  with 
Lilla  often  on  indifferent  matters  that  interested  her,  and 
watched  her  constantly  when  she  was  all  unaware  of  my  ob 
servant  gaze.  With  me  she  was  as  frank  and  fearless  as  a 
tame  robin  ;  but  after  some  days  I  found  that  she  grew  shy 
of  mentioning  the  name  of  Vincenzo,  that  she  blushed  when 
he  approached  her,  that  she  was  timid  of  asking  him  to  do 
anything  for  her  ;  and  from  all  these  little  signs  I  knew  her 
mind,  as  one  knows  by  the  rosy  streaks  in  the  sky  that  the 
sunrise  is  near. 

One  afternoon  I  called  the  Signora  Monti  to  my  room. 
She  came,  surprised,  and  a  little  anxious.  Was  anything 
wrong  with  the  service  ?  I  reassured  her  housewifely  scruples, 
and  came  to  the  point  at  once. 

"  I  would  speak  to  you  of  your  child,  the  little  Lilla,"  I 
said,  kindly.  "  Have  you  ever  thought  that  she  may  marry  ?  " 

Her  dark  bold  eyes  filled  with  tears  and  her  lips  quivered. 

"  Truly  I  have,"  she  replied  with  a  wistful  sadness  ;  "  but  I 
have  prayed,  perhaps  foolishly,  that  she  would  not  leave  me 
yet.  I  love  her  so  well  ;  she  is  always  a  babe  to  me,  so 
small  and  sweet !  I  put  the  thought  of  her  marriage  from 
me  as  a  sorrowful  thing." 

"  I  understand  your  feeling,"  I  said.  "  Still,  suppose 
your  daughter  wedded  a  man  who  would  be  to  you  as  a  son, 
and  who  would  not  part  her  from  you  ? — for  instance,  let  us 
say  Vincenzo?  " 

Signora  Monti  smiled  through  her  tears. 

"  Vincenzo !  He  is  a  good  lad,  a  very  good  lad,  and  I 
love  him  ;  but  he  does  not  think  of  Lilla — he  is  devoted  to 
the  eccellenza." 

"  I  am  aware  of  his  devotion,"  I  answered.  "  Still  I  be- 
lieve you  will  find  out  soon  that  he  loves  your  Lilla.  At  pres- 
ent he  says  nothing — he  fears  to  offend  you  and  alarm  her; 
but  his  eyes  speak — so  do  hers.  You  are  a  good  woman,  a 
good  mother  ;  watch  them  both,  you  will  soon  tell  whether 
love  is  between  them  or  no.  And  see,"  here  I  handed  her  a 


262  VENDETTA  t 

sealed  envelope,  "  in  this  you  will  find  notes  to  the  amount 
of  four  thousand  francs."  She  uttered  a  little  cry  of  amaze- 
ment. "  It  is  Lilla's  dowry,  whoever  she  marries,  though  I 
think  she  will  marry  Vincenzo.  Nay — no  thanks,  money  is 
of  no  value  to  me  ;  and  this  is  the  one  pleasure  1  have  had 
for  many  weary  months.  Think  well  of  Vincenzo — he  is  an 
excellent  fellow.  And  all  I  ask  of  you  is,  that  you  keep  this 
little  dowry  a  secret  till  the  day  of  your  fair  child's  espou- 
sals. " 

Before  I  could  prevent  her  the  enthusiastic  woman  had 
seized  my  hand  and  kissed  it.  Then  she  lifted  her  head  with 
the  proud  free-born  dignity  of  a  Roman  matron  ;  her  broad 
bosom  heaved,  and  her  strong  voice  quivered  with  suppressed 
emotion. 

"  I  thank  you,  signor,"  she  said,  simply,  "  for  Lilla's  sake ! 
Not  that  my  little  one  needs  more  than  her  mother's  hands 
have  toiled  for,  thanks  be  to  the  blessed  saints  who  have  had 
us  both  in  their  keeping  !  But  this  is  a  special  blessing  of 
God  sent  through  your  hands,  and  I  should  be  unworthy  of 
all  projperity  were  I  not  grateful.  Eccellenza,  pardon  me, 
but  my  eyes  are  quick  to  see  that  you  have  suffered  sorrow. 
Good  actions  lighten  grief  !  We  will  pray  for  your  happiness, 
Lilla  and  I,  till  the  last  breath  leaves  our  lips.  Believe  it — 
the  name  of  our  benefactor  shall  be  lifted  to  the  saints  night 
and  morning,  and  who  knows  but  good  may  come  of  it  !  " 

I  smiled  faintly. 

"  Good  will  come  of  it,  my  excellent  signora,  though  I  am 
all  unworthy  of  your  prayers.  Rather  pray,"  and  I  sighed 
heavily,  "for  the  dead,  ''that  they  may  be  loosed  from  their 
sins:  " 

The  good  woman  looked  at  me  with  a  sort  of  kindly  pity 
mingled  with  awe,  then  murmuring  once  more  her  thanks  and 
blessing,  she  left  the  room.  A  few  minutes  afterward  Vin- 
cenzo entered.  I  addressed  him  cheerfully. 

'*  Absence  is  the  best  test  of  love,  Vincenzo  ;  prepare  all 
for  our  departure  !  We  shall  leave  Avellino  the  day  after 
to-morrow." 

And  so  we  did.  Lilla  looked  slightly  downcast,  but  Vin- 
cenzo seemed  satisfied,  and  I  augured  from  their  faces,  and 
from  the  mysterious  smile  of  Signor  Monti,  that  all  was  going 
well.  I  left  the  beautiful  mountain  town  with  regret,  know- 
ing I  should  see  it  no  more.  I  touched  Lilla's  fair  cheek  light- 
ly at  parting,  and  took  what  T  knew  was  my  last  look  into  the 
sweet  candid  young  face.  \et  the  consciousness  tha.t  J  had 


VENDETTA!  263 

done  some  little  good  gave  my  tired  heart  a  sense  of  satisfac- 
tion and  repose — a  feeling  I  had  not  experienced  since  I  died 
and  rose  again  from  the  dead. 

On  the  last  day  of  January  I  returned  to  Naples,  after  an 
absence  of  more  than  a  month,  and  was  welcomed  back  by  all 
my  numerous  acquaintance  with  enthusiasm.  The  Marquis 
D'Avencourt  had  informed  me  rightly — the  affair  of  the  duel 
was  a  thing  of  the  past — an  almost  forgotten  circumstance. 
The  carnival  was  in  full  riot,  the  streets  were  scenes  of  fantastic 
mirth  and  revelry ;  there  was  music  and  song,  dancing  and 
masquerading,  and  feasting.  But  I  withdrew  from  the  tumult 
of  merriment,  and  absorbed  myself  in  the  necessary  prepara- 
tions for — my  marriage. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

LOOKING  back  on  the  incidents  of  those  strange  feveris! 
weeks  that  preceded  my  wedding-day,  they  seemed  to  me  lik*. 
the  dreams  of  a  dying  man.  Shifting  colors,  confused 
images,  moments  of  clear  light,  hours  of  long  darkness — alf 
things  gross,  refined,  material,  and  spiritual  were  shaken  up 
in  my  life  like  the  fragments  in  a  kaleidoscope,  ever  chang 
ing  into  new  forms  and  bewildering  patterns.  My  brain  was. 
clear  ;  yet  I  often  questioned  myself  whether  I  was  not  go- 
ing mad — whether  all  the  careful  methodical  plans  I  formed 
were  but  the  hazy  fancies  of  a  hopelessly  disordered  mind  ? 
Yet  no ;  each  detail  of  my  scheme  was  too  complete,  too 
consistent,  too  business-like  for  that.  A  madman  may  have 
a  method  of  action  to  a  certain  extent,  but  there  is  always 
some  slight  slip,  some  omission,  some  mistake  which  helps 
to  discover  his  condition.  Now,  /  forgot  nothing — I  had 
the  composed  exactitude  of  a  careful  banker  who  balances 
his  accounts  with  the  most  elaborate  regularity.  I  can  laugh 
to  think  of  it  all  now  ;  but  then — then  I  moved,  spoke,  and 
acted  like  a  human  machine  impelled  by  stronger  force§ 
than  my  own — in  all  things  precise,  in  all  things  inflexible. 

Within  the  week  of  my  return  from  Avellino  my  coming 
marriage  with  the  Countess  Romani  was  announced.  Two 
days  after  it  had  been  made  public,  while  sauntering  across 
the  Largo  del  Castello,  I  met  the  Marquis  D'Avencourt.  I 
had  not  seen  him  since  the  morning  of  the  duel,  and  his  pres- 
€nc$  gave  n?.?  a  sort  of  nervous  shock.  He  was  exceedingly 


264  VENDETTA! 

cordial,  though  I  fancied  he  was  also  slightly  embarrassed 
After  a  few  commonplace  remarks  he  said,  abruptly : 

"  So  your  marriage  will  positively  take  place  ?  " 

I  forced  a  laugh. 

"  Ma  /  certamente  /     Do  you  doubt  it  ?  " 

His  handsome  face  clouded  and  his  manner  grew  still  more 
constrained. 

"  No ;  but  I  thought — I  had  hoped— 

"  Man  cher"  I  said,  airily,  "  I  perfectly  understand  to  what 
you  allude.  But  we  men  of  the  world  are  not  fastidious — 
we  know  better  than  to  pay  any  heed  to  the  foolish  love-fan- 
cies of  a  woman  before  her  marriage,  so  long  as  she  does  not 
trick  us  afterward.  The  letters  you  sent  me  were  trifles, 
mere  trifles  !  In  wedding  the  Contessa  Romani  I  assure  you 
I  believe  I  secure  the  most  virtuous  as  well  as  the  most; 
lovely  woman  in  Europe  !  "  And  I  laughed  again  heartily. 

D'Avencourt  looked  puzzled  ;  but  he  was  a  punctilious 
man,  and  knew  how  to  steer  clear  of  a  delicate  subject.  He 
smiled. 

"  A  la  bonne  heure"  he  said — "  I  wish  you  joy  with  all  my 
heart!  You  are  the  best  judge  of  your  own  happiness;  as 
for  me — vive  la  liberte  !  " 

And  with  a  gay  parting  salute  he  left  me.  No  one  else  in 
the  city  appeared  to  share  his  foreboding  scruples,  if  he  had 
any,  about  my  forthcoming  marriage.  It  was  everywhere 
talked  of  with  as  much  interest  and  expectation  as  though  it 
were  some  new  amusement  invented  to  heighten  the  merri- 
ment of  carnival.  Among  other  things,  I  earned  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  a  most  impatient  lover,  for  now  I  would  consent 
to  no  delays.  I  hurried  all  the  preparations  on  with  feverish 
precipitation.  I  had  very  little  difficulty  in  persuading  Nina 
that  the  sooner  our  wedding  took  place  the  better;  she  \v  i> 
to  the  full  as  eager  as  myself,  as  ready  to  rush  on  her  ow? 
destruction  as  Guido  had  been.  Her  chief  passion  w.i 
avarice,  and  the  repeated  rumors  of  my  supposed  fabulous 
wealth  had  aroused  her  greed  from  the  very  moment  she  had 
first  met  me  in  my  assumed  character  of  the  Count  Oliva. 
As  soon  as  her  engagement  to  me  became  known  in  Naples, 
she  was  an  object  of  envy  to  all  those  of  her  own  sex  who, 
during  the  previous  autumn,  had  laid  out  their  store  of  fasci- 
nations to  entrap  me  in  vain — and  this  made  her  perfectly 
happy.  Perhaps  the  supremest  satisfaction  a  woman  of  this 
sort  can  attain  to  is  the  fact  of  making  her  less  fortunate 
sisters  discontented  and  miserable  !  I  loaded  her,  of  course, 


VENDETTA!  265 

with  the  costliest  gifts,  and  she,  being  the  sole  mistress  of 
the  fortune  left  her  by  her  "  late  husband,"  as  well  as  of  the 
unfortunate  Guide's  money,  set  no  limits  to  her  extravagance. 
She  ordered  the  most  expensive  and  elaborate  costumes ; 
she  was  engaged  morning  after  morning  with  dressmakers, 
tailors,  and  milliners,  and  she  was  surrounded  by  a  certain 
favored  "  set "  of  female  friends,  for  whose  benefit  she  dis- 
played the  incoming  treasures  of  her  wardrobe  till  they  were 
ready  to  cry  for  spite  and  vexation,  though  they  had  to  smile 
and  hold  in  their  wrath  and  outraged  vanity  beneath  the  so- 
cial mask  of  complacent  composure.  And  Nina  loved  noth- 
ing better  than  to  torture  the  poor  women  who  were  stinted 
of  pocket-money  with  the  sight  of  shimmering  satins,  soft 
radiating  plushes,  rich  velvets,  embroidery  studded  with  real 
gems,  pieces  of  costly  old  lace,  priceless  scents,  and  articles 
of  bijouterie ;  she  loved  also  to  dazzle  the  eyes  and  bewilder 
the  brains  of  young  girls,  whose  finest  toilet  was  a  garb  of 
simplest  white  stuff  unadorned  save  by  a  cluster  of  natural 
blossoms,  and  to  send  them  away  sick  at  heart,  pining 
for  they  knew  not  what,  dissatisfied  with  everything,  and 
grumbling  at  fate  for  not  permitting  them  to  deck  themselves 
in  such  marvelous  "  arrangements  "  of  costume  as  those  pos- 
sessed by  the  happy,  the  fortunate  future  Countess  Oliva. 

Poor  maidens  !  had  they  but  known  all  they  would  not  have 
envied  her  !  Women  are  too  fond  of  measuring  happiness  by 
the  amount  of  fine  clothes  they  obtain,  and  I  truly  believe 
dress  is  the  one  thing  that  never  fails  to  console  them.  How 
often  a  fit  of  hysterics  can  be  cut  short  by  the  opportune 
arrival  of  a  new,  gown  ! 

My  wife,  in  consideration  of  her  approaching  second  nup- 
tials, had  thrown  off  her  widow's  crape,  and  now  appeared 
clad  in  those  soft  subdued  half-tints  of  color  that  suited  her 
fragile,  fairy-like  beauty  to  perfection.  All  her  old  witcherias 
and  her  graceful  tricks  of  manner  and  speech  were  put  forth 
again  for  my  benefit.  I  knew  them  all  so  well !  I  understood 
the  value  of  her  light  caresses  and  languishing  looks  so  thor- 
oughly !  She  was  very  anxious  to  attain  the  full  dignity  of 
her  position  as  the  wife  of  so  rich  a  nobleman  as  I  was  re- 
puted to  be,  therefore  she  raised  no  objection  when  I  fixed 
the  day  of  our  marriage  for  Giovedi  Grasso.  Then  the  fool- 
ing and  mumming,  the  dancing,  shrieking,  and  screaming 
would  be  at  its  height ;  it  pleased  my  whim  to  have  this  other 
piece  of  excellent  masquerading  take  place  at  the  same  time. 

The  wedding  was  to  be  as  private  as  possible,  owing  to  my 


266  VENDETTA ! 

wife's  "  recent  sad  bereavements,"  as  she  herself  said  with  a 
pretty  sigh  and  tearful,  pleading  glance.  It  would  take  place 
in  the  chapel  of  San  Gennaro,  adjoining  the  cathedral.  We 
were  married  there  before  !  During  the  time  that  intervened, 
Nina's  manner  was  somewhat  singular.  To  me  she  was  often 
timid,  and  sometimes  half  conciliatory.  Now  and  then  I 
caught  her  large  dark  eyes  fixed  on  me  with  a  startled,  anx- 
ious look,  but  this  expression  soon  passed  away.  She  was 
subject,  too,  to  wild  fits  of  merriment,  and  anon  to  moods  of 
absorbed  and  gloomy  silence.  I  could  plainly  see  that  she 
was  strung  up  to  an  extreme  pitch  of  nervous  excitement  and 
irritability,  but  I  asked  her  no  questions.  If — I  thought — if 
she  tortured  herself  with  memories,  all  the  better — if  she  saw, 
or  fancied  she  saw,  the  resemblance  between  me  and  her 
"  dear  dead  Fabio,"  it  suited  me  that  she  should  be  so  racked 
and  bewildered, 

I  came  and  went  to  and  fro  from  the  villa  as  I  pleased.  I 
wore  my  dark  glasses  as  usual,  and  not  even  Giacomo  could 
follow  me  with  his  peering,  inquisitive  gaze  ;  for  since  the 
night  he  had  been  hurled  so  fiercely  to  the  ground  by  Guide's 
reckless  and  impatient  hand,  the  poor  old  man  had  been  par- 
alyzed, and  had  spoken  no  word.  He  lay  in  an  upper  chamber, 
tended  by  Assunta,  and  my  wife  had  already  written  to  his 
relatives  in  Lombardy,  asking  them  to  send  for  him  home. 

"  Of  what  use  to  keep  him  ?  "  she  had  asked  me. 

True  !  Of  what  use  to  give  even  roof-shelter  to  a  poor  old 
human  creature,  maimed,  broken,  and  useless  for  evermore  ? 
After  long  years  of  faithful  service,  turn  him  out,  cast  him 
forth  !  If  he  die  of  neglect,  starvation,  and,  ill-usage,  what 
matter  ? — he  is  a  worn-out  tool,  his  day  is  done — let  him  per- 
ish. I  would  not  plead  for  him — why  should  I  ?  I  had  made 
my  own  plans  for  his  comfort — plans  shortly  to  be  carried 
out ;  and  in  the  mean  time  Assunta  nursed  him  tenderly  as  he 
lay  speechless,  with  no  more  strength  than  a  year-old  baby, 
and  only  a  bewildered  pain  in  his  upturned,  lack-luster  eyes. 
One  incident  occurred  during  these  last  days  of  my  vengeance 
that  struck  a  sharp  pain  to  my  heart,  together  with  a  sense 
of  the  bitterest  anger.  I  had  gone  up  to  the  villa  somewhat 
early  in  the  morning,  and  on  crossing  the  lawn  I  saw  a  dark 
form  stretched  motionless  on  one  of  the  paths  that  led  directly 
up  to  the  house.  I  went  to  examine  it,  and  started  back  in 
horror — it  was  my  dog  Wyvis  shot  dead.  His  silky  black 
head  and  forepaws  were  dabbled  in  blood — his  honest  brown 
eyes  were  glazed  with  the  film  of  his  dying  agonies.  Sickened 


VENDETTA  I  267 

and  infuriated  at  the  sight,  I  called  to  a  gardener  who  was 
trimming  the  shrubbery. 

"Who  has  done  this  ?  "  I  demanded. 

The  man  looked  pityingly  at  the  poor  bleeding  remains,  and 
said,  in  a  low  voice : 

"It  was  madama's  order,  signer.  The  dog  bit  her  yester- 
day ;  we  shot  him  at  daybreak." 

I  stooped  to  caress  the  faithful  animal's  body,  and  as  I 
stroked  the  silky  coat  my  eyes  were  dim  with  tears. 

"How  did  it  happen?"  I  asked Jn  smothered  accents, 
"  Was  your  lady  hurt  ?  " 

The  gardener  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  sighed. 

"  Ma  ! — no  !  But  he  tore  the  lace  on  her  dress  with  his 
teeth  and  grazed  her  hand.  It  was  little,  but  enough.  He 
will  bite  no  more — povera  bestia!" 

I  gave  the  fellow  five  francs. 

"  I  liked  the  dog,"  I  said  briefly,  "  he  was  a  faithful  creat- 
ure. Bury  him  decently  under  that  tree,"  and  I  pointed  to 
the  giant  cypress  on  the  lawn,  "  and  take  this  money  for  your 
trouble." 

He  looked  surprised  but  grateful,  and  promised  to  do  my 
bidding.  Once  more  sorrowfully  caressing  the  fallen  head  of 
perhaps  the  truest  friend  I  ever  possessed,  I  strode  hastily 
into  the  house,  and  met  Nina  coming  out  of  her  morning- 
room,  clad  in  one  of  her  graceful  trailing  garments,  in  which 
soft  lavender  hues  were  blended  like  the  shaded  colors  of 
late  and  early  violets. 

"  So  Wyvis  has  been  shot  ? "  I  said,  abruptly. 

She  gave  a  slight  shudder.  * 

"  Oh,  yes ;  is  it  not  sad  ?  But  I  was  compelled  to  have  it 
done.  Yesterday  I  went  past  his  kennel  within  reach  of  his 
chain,  and  he  sprung  furiously  at  me  for  no  reason  at  all. 
See  !  "  And  holding  up  her  small  hand  she  showed  me  three 
trifling  marks  in  the  delicate  flesh.  "  I  felt  that  you  would 
be  so  unhappy  if  you  thought  I  kept  a  dog  that  was  at  all  dan- 

ferous,  so  I  determined  to  get  rid  of  him.     It  is  always  pain- 
il  to  have  a  favorite  animal  killed ;  but  really  Wyvis  be- 
longed to  my*poor  husband,  and  I  think  he  has  never  been 
quite  safe  since  his  master's  death,  and   now   Giacomo   is 

ill " 

"  I  see  !  "  I  said,  curtly,  cutting  her  explanations  short. 
Within  myself  I  thoughc  how  much  more  sweet  and  valu- 
able was  the  dog's  life  than  hers.     Brave  Wyvis — good  Wyvis  ! 
JJe  had  done  his  best — he  had  tried  to  tear  her  dainty  flesh ; 


268  VENDETTA 

his  honest  instincts  had  led  him  to  attempt  rough  vengeance 
on  the  woman  he  had  felt  was  his  master's  foe.  And  he  had 
met  his  fate,  and  died  in  the  performance  of  duty.  But  I 
said  no  more  on  the  subject.  The  dog's  death  was  not 
alluded  to  again  by  either  Nina  or  myself.  He  lay  in  his 
mossy  grave  under  the  cypress  boughs — his  memory  untainted 
by  any  lie,  and  his  fidelity  enshrined  in  my  heart  as  a  thing 
good  and  gracious,  far  exceeding  the  self-interested  friend- 
ship of  so-called  Christian  humanity. 

The  days  passed  slowly  on.  To  the  revelers  who  chased 
the  flying  steps  of  carnival  with  shouting  and  laughter,  no 
doubt  the  hours  were  brief,  being  so  orimful  of  merriment ; 
but  to  me,  who  heard  nothing  sav.  the  measured  ticking  of 
my  own  timepiece  of  revenge,  and  who  saw  naught  save  its 
hands,  that  every  second  drew  nearer  to  the  last  and  fatal 
figure  on  the  dial,  the  very  moments  seemed  long  and  laden 
with  weariness.  I  reamed  the  streets  of  the  city  aimlessly, 
feeling  more  like  a  deserted  stranger  than  a  well-known  envied 
nobleman,  whose  wealth  made  him  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes. 
The  riotous  glee,  the  music,  the  color  that  whirled  and  ree.ed 
through  the  great  street  of  Toledo  at  this  season  bewildered 
and  pained  me.  Though  I  knew  and  was  accustomed  to  the 
wild  vagaries  of  carnival,  yet  this  year  they  seemed  to  be  out 
of  place,  distracting,  senseless,  and  all  unfamiliar. 

Sometimes  I  escaped  from  the  city  tumult  and  wandered 
out  to  the  cemetery.  There  I  would  stand,  dreamily  looking 
at  the  freshly  turned  sods  above  Guido  Ferrari's  grave.  No 
stone  marked  the  spot  as  yet,  but  it  was  close  to  the  Romani 
vault — not  more  than  a  couple  of  yards  away  from  the  iron 
grating  that  barred  the  entrance  to  that  dim  and  fatal  charnel- 
house.  I  had  a  drear  fascination  for  the  place,  and  more 
than  once  I  went  to  the  opening  of  that  secret  passage  made 
by  the  brigands  to  ascertain  if  all  was  safe  and  undisturbed. 
Everything  was  as  I  had  left  it,  save  that  the  tangle  of  brush- 
wood had  become  thicker,  and  weeds  and  brambles  had 
sprung  up,  making  it  less  visible  than  before,  and  probably 
rendering  it  more  impassable.  By  a  fortunate  accident  I  had 
secured  the  key  of  the  vault.  I  knew  that  for'family  burial- 
places  of  this  kind  there  are  always  two  keys — one  left  in 
charge  of  the  keeper  of  the  cemetery,  the  other  possessed  by 
the  person  or  persons  to  whom  the  mausoleum  belongs,  and 
this  other  I  managed  to  obtain. 

On  one  occasion,  being  left  for  some  time  alone  in  my  own 
library  at  the  villa,  I  remembered  that  in  an  upper  drawer  of 


VENDETTA !  269 

an  old  oaken  escritoire  that  stood  there,  had  always  been  a 
few  keys  belonging  to  the  doors  of  cellars  and  rooms  in  the 
house.  I  looked,  and  found  them  lying  there  as  usual ;  they 
all  had  labels  attached  to  them,  signifying  their  use,  and  I 
turned  them  over  impatiently,  not  finding  what  I  sought.  I 
was  about  to  give  up  the  search,  when  I  perceived  a  large 
rusty  iron  key  that  had  slipped  to  the  back  of  the  drawer  ; 
I  pulled  it  out,  and  to  my  satisfaction  it  was  labeled  "  Mau- 
soleum." I  immediately  took  possession  of  it,  glad  to  have 
obtained  so  useful  and  necessary  an  implement;  I  knew  that 
I  should  soon  need  it.  The  cemetery  was  quite  deserted  at 
this  festive  season — no  one  visited  it  to  lay  wreaths  of  flowers 
or  sacred  mementoes  on  the  last  resting-places  of  their  friends. 
In  the  joys  of  the  carnival  who  thinks  of  the  dead?  In  my 
frequent  walks  there  I  was  always  alone  ;  I  might  have  opened 
my  own  vault  and  gone  down  into  it  without  being  observed, 
but  I  did  not ;  I  contented  myself  with  occasionally  trying 
the  key  in  the  lock,  and  assuring  myself  that  it  worked  with- 
out difficulty. 

Returning  from  one  of  these  excursions  late  on  a  mild  after- 
noon toward  the  end  of  the  week  preceding  my  marriage,  I 
bent  my  steps  toward  the  Molo,  where  I  saw  a  picturesque 
group  of  sailors  and  girls  dancing  one  of  those  fantastic, 
graceful  dances  of  the  country,  in  which  impassioned  move- 
ment and  expressive  gesticulation  are  everything.  Their 
steps  were  guided  and  accompanied  by  the  sonorous  twanging 
of  a  full-toned  guitar  and  the  tinkling  beat  of  a  tambourine. 
Their  handsome,  animated  faces,  their  flashing  eyes  and 
laughing  lips,  their  gay,  many-colored  costumes,  the  glitter  of 
beads  on  the  brown  necks  of  the  maidens,  the  red  caps 
jauntily  perched  on  the  thick  black  curls  of  the  fishermen — all 
made  up  a  picture  full  of  light  and  life  thrown  up  into  strong 
relief  against  the  pale  gray  and  amber  tints  of  the  February 
sky  and  sea ;  while  shadowing  overhead  frowned  the  stern 
dark  walls  of  the  Castel  Nuovo. 

It  was  such  a  scene  as  the  English  painter  Luke  Fildes 
might  love  to  depict  on  his  canvas — the  one  man  of  to-day 
who,  though  born  of  the  land  of  opaque  mists  and  rain-bur- 
dened clouds,  has,  notwithstanding  these  disadvantages, 
managed  to  partly  endow  his  brush  with  the  exhaustless 
wealth  and  glow  of  the  radiant  Italian  color.  I  watched  the 
dance  with  a  faint  sense  of  pleasure — it  was  full  of  so  much 
harmony  and  delicacy  of  rhythm.  The  lad  who  thrummed 
the  guitar  broke  out  now  and  then  into  song — a  song  in  dia- 


270  VENDETTA ! 

lect  that  fitted  into  the  music  of  the  dance  as  accurately  as  a 
rosebud  into  its  calyx.  I  could  not  distinguish  all  the  words 
he  sung,  but  the  refrain  was  always  the  same,  and  he  gave  it 
in  every  possible  inflection  and  variety  of  tone,  from  grave 
to  gay,  from  pleading  to  pathetic. 

"  Che  bella  cosa  t  de  morire  acciso, 
Nnanze  a  la  porta  de  la  nnamorata  !  "  * 

meaning  literally — "  How  beautiful  a  thing  to  die,  suddenly 
slain  at  the  door  of  one's  beloved  ! " 

There  was  no  sense  in  the  thing,  I  thought  half  angrily — 
it  was  a  stupid  sentiment  altogether.  Yet  I  could  not  help 
smiling  at  the  ragged,  barefooted  rascal  who  sung  it:  he 
seemed  to  feel  such  a  gratification  in  repeating  it,  and  he 
rolled  his  black  eyes  with  lovelorn  intensity,  and  breathed 
forth  sighs  that  sounded  through  his  music  with  quite  a 
touching  earnestness.  Of  course  he  was  only  following  the 
manner  of  all  Neapolitans,  namely,  acting  his  song  ;  they  all 
do  it,  and  cannot  help  themselves.  But  this  boy  had  a 
peculiarly  roguish  way  of  pausing  and  crying  forth  a  plaintive 
"  Ah  !  "  before  he  added  "  Che  bella  cosa"  etc.,  which  gave 
point  and  piquancy  to  his  absurd  ditty.  He  was  evidently 
brimful  of  mischief — his  expression  betokened  it ;  no  doubt 
he  was  one  of  the  most  thorough  little  scamps  that  ever 
played  at  "  morra"  but  there  was  a  charm  about  his  hand- 
some dirty  face  and  unkempt  hair,  and  I  watched  him 
amusedly,  glad  to  be  distracted  for  a  few  minutes  from  the 
tired  inner  workings  of  my  own  unhappy  thoughts.  In  time 
to  come,  so  I  mused,  this  very  boy  might  learn  to  set  his 
song  about  the  "  beloved  "  to  a  sterner  key,  and  might  find 
k  meet,  not  to  be  slain  himself,  but  to  slay  her  I  .  Such  a 
thing — in  Naples — was  more  than  probable.  By  and  by  the 
dance  ceased,  and  I  recognized  in  one  of  the  breathless, 
laughing  sailors  my  old  acquaintance  Andrea  Luziani,  with 
whom  I  had  sailed  to  Palermo.  The  sight  of  him  relieved 
me  from  a  difficulty  which  had  puzzled  me  for  some  days, 
and  as  soon  as  the  little  groups  of  men  and  women  had 
partially  dispersed,  I  walked  up  to  him  and  touched  him  on 
the  shoulder.  He  started,  looked  round  surprised,  and  did 
not  appear  to  recognize  me.  I  remembered  that  when  he 
had  seen  me  I  had  not  grown  a  beard,  neither  had  I  worn 
dark  spectacles.  I  recalled  my  name  to  hi«n ;  his  face 
cleared  and  he  smiled. 

*  Neapolitan  dialect. 


VENDETTA!  271 

"Ah  !  buon  giorno,  eccellenza  !  "  he  cried.  "  A  thousand 
pardons  that  I  did  not  at  first  know  you !  Often  have  1 
thought  of  you  !  often  have  I  heard  your  name — ah  !  what  a 
name  !  Rich,  great,  generous  ! — ah  !  what  a  glad  life  !  And 
on  the  point  of  marrying — ah,  Dio !  love  makes  all  the 
troubles  go — so  !  "  and  taking  his  cigar  from  his  mouth,  he 
puffed  a  ring  of  pale  smoke  into  the  air  and  laughed  gayly. 
Then  suddenly  lifting  his  cap  from  his  clustering  black  hair, 
he  added,  "  All  joy  be  with  you,  eccellenza  !  " 

I  smiled  and  thanked  him.  I  noticed  he  looked  at  me 
curiously. 

"  You  think  I  have  changed  in  appearance,  my  friend  ? " 
I  said. 

The  Sicilian  looked  embarrassed. 

"  Ebbene  /  we  must  all  change,"  he  answered,  lightly,  evad- 
ing my  glance.  "  The  days  pass  on — each  day  takes  a  little 
bit  of  youth  away  with  it.  One  grows  old  without  knowing 
it!"  ' 

I  laughed. 

"  I  see,"  I  observed.  "  You  think  I  have  aged  somewhat 
since  you  saw  me  ? " 

"  A  little,  eccellenza,"  he  frankly  confessed. 

"  I  have  suffered  severe  illness,"  I  said,  quietly,  "  and  my 
eyes  are  still  weak,  as  you  perceive,"  and  I  touched  my 
glasses.  "  But  I  shall  get  stronger  in  time.  Can  you  come 
with  me  for  a  few  moments  ?  I  want  your  help  in  a  matter 
of  importance." 

He  nodded  a  ready  assent  and  followed  me. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

WE  left  the  Molo,  and  paused  at  a  retired  street  corner 
leadirg  from  the  Chiaja. 

"  You  remember  Carmelo  Neri  ?  "  I  asked. 

Andrea  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  air  of  infinite  com- 
miseration. 

"  Ah  !  povero  diavolo  f  Well  do  I  remember  him  !  A  bold 
fellow  and  brave,  with  a , heart  in  him,  too,  if  one  did  but 
know  where  to  find  it.  And  now  he  drags  the  chain  !  Well, 
well,  no  doubt  it  is  what  he  deserves ;  but  I  say,  and  always 
will  maintain,  there  are  many  worse  men  than  Carmelo." 

I  briefly  related  how  I  had  seen  the  captured  brigand  iu 


272  V END  ETTA  J 

the  square  at  Palermo  and  had  spoken  with  him.  "  I  men- 
tioned you,"  I  added,  "  and  he  bade  me  tell  you  Teresa  had 
killed  herself." 

"Ah!  that  I  well  know,"  said  the  little  captain,  who  had 
listened  to  me  intently,  and  over  whose  mobile  face  flitted  a 
shadow  of  tender  pity,  as  he  sighed.  "  Poverinetta  I  So 
fragile  and  small !  To  think  she  had  the  force  to  plunge  the 
knife  in  her  breast !  As  well  imagine  a  little  bird  flying 
down  to  pierce  itself  on  an  uplifted  bayonet.  Ay,  ay ! 
women  will  do  strange  things — and  it  is  certain  she  loved 
Carmelo." 

*'  You  would  help  him  to  escape  again  if  you  could,  no 
doubt  ? "  I  inquired  with  a  half  smile. 

The  ready  wit  of  the  Sicilian  instantly  asserted  itself. 

"  Not  I,  eccellenza,"  he  replied,  with  an  air  of  dignity  and 
most  virtuous  honesty.  "  No,  no,  not  now.  The  law  is  the 
law,  and  I,  Andrea  Luziani,  am  not  one  to  break  it.  No, 
Carmelo  must  take  his  punishment ;  it  is  for  life  they  say— 
and  hard  as  it  seems,  it  is  but  just.  When  the  little  Teresa 
was  in  the  question,  look  you,  what  could  I  do  ?  but  now — 
let  the  saints  that  choose  help  Carmelo,  for  I  will  not." 

I  laughed  as  I  met  the  audacious  flash  of  his  eyes  ;  I  knew, 
despite  his  protestations,  that  if  Carmelo  Neri  ever  did  get 
clear  of  the  galleys,  it  would  be  an  excellent  thing  for  him  if 
Luziani's  vessel  chanced  to  be  within  reach. 

"  You  have  your  brig  the  '  Laura '  still  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  Yes,  eccellenza,  the  Madonna  be  praised  !  And  she  has 
been  newly  rigged  and  painted,  and  she  is  as  trig  and  trim  a 
craft  as  you  can  meet  with  in  all  the  wide  blue  waters  of  the 
Mediterranean." 

"  Now  you  see,"  I  said,  impressively,  "  I  have  a  friend,  a 
relative,  who  is  in  trouble  :  he  wishes  to  get  away  from  Naples 
quietly  and  in  secret.  Will  you  help  him  ?  You  shall  be 
paid  whatever  you  think  proper  to  demand." 

The  Sicilian  looked  puzzled.  He  puffed  meditatively  at 
his  cigar  and  remained  silent. 

"  He  is  not  pursued  by  the  law,"  I  continued,  noting  his 
hesitation.  "  He  is  simply  involved  in  a  cruel  difficulty 
brought  upon  him  by  his  own  family — he  seeks  to  escape 
from  unjust  persecution." 

Andrea's  brow  cleared. 

"  Oh,  if  that  is  the  case,  eccellenza,  I  am  at  your  service, 
But  where  does  your  friend  desire  to  go  ?  " 

I  paused  for  a  moment  and  considered. 


VENDETTA!  273 

"  To  Civita  Vecchia,"  I  said  at  last ;  "  from  that  port  he 
can  obtain  a  ship  to  take  him  to  his  further  destination." 

The  captain's  expressive  face  fell — he  looked  very  dubious. 

"  To  Civita  Vecchia  is  a  long  way,  a  very  long  way,"  he 
said,  regretfully  ;  "  and  it  is  the  bad  season,  and  there  are 
cross  currents  and  contrary  winds.  With  all  the  wish  in  the 
world  to  please  you,  eccellenza,  I  dare  not  run  the  *  Laura  * 
so  far  ;  but  there  is  another  means " 

And  interrupting  himself  he  considered  awhile  in  silence. 
I  waited  patiently  for  him  to  speak. 

"  Whether  it  would  suit  your  friend  I  know  not,"  he  said 
at  last,  laying  his  hand  confidentially  on  my  arm,  "  but  there 
is  a  stout  brig  leaving  here  for  Civita  Vecchia  on  Friday 
morning  next " 

"  The  day  after  Giovedi  Grasso  ? "  I  queried,  with  a  smile 
he  did  not  understand.  He  nodded. 

"  Exactly  so.  She  carries  a  cargo  of  Lacrima  Cristi,  and 
she  is  a  swift  sailer.  I  know  her  captain — he  is  a  good  soul ; 
but,"  and  Andrea  laughed  lightly,  "  he  is  like  the  rest  of  us — 
he  loves  money.  You  do  not  count  the  francs — no,  they  are 
nothing  to  you — but  we  look  to  the  soldi.  Now,  if  it  please 
you  I  will  make  him  a  certain  offer  of  passage  money,  as 
large  as  you  shall  choose,  also  I  will  tell  him  when  to  expect 
his  one  passenger,  and  I  can  almost  promise  you  that  he 
will  not  say  no  ! " 

This  proposal  fitted  in  so  excellently  with  my  plans  that  I 
accepted  it,  and  at  once  named  an  exceptionally  munificent 
sum  for  the  passage  required.  Andrea's  eyes  glistened  as  he 
heard. 

"  It  is  a  little  fortune  !  "  he  cried,  enthusiastically.  "  Would 
that  I  could  earn  as  much  in  twenty  voyages  !  But  one 
should  not  be  churlish — such  luck  cannot  fall  in  all  men's 
way." 

I  smiled. 

"  And  do  you  think,  amico,  I  will  suffer  you  to  go  unre- 
warded ?  "  I  said.  And  placing  two  twenty-franc  pieces  in 
his  brown  palm  I  added,  "  As  you  rightly  said,  francs  are 
nothing  to  me.  Arrange  this  little  matter  without  difficulty, 
and  you  shall  not  be  forgotten.  You  can  call  at  my  hotel 
to-morrow  or  the  next  day,  when  you  have  settled  everything 
— here  is  the  address,"  and  I  penciled  it  on  my  card  and  gave 
it  to  him  ;  "but  remember,  this  is  a  secret  matter,  and  I  rely 
upon  you  to  explain  it  as  such  to  your  friend  who  commands 
the  brig  going  to  Civita  Vecchia.  He  must  ask  no  questions 
18 


274  VENDETTA  t 

of  his  passenger — the  more  silence  the  more  discretion — and 
when  once  he  has  landed  him  at  his  destination  he  will  do 
well  to  straightway  forget  all  about  him.  You  understand  ? " 

Andrea  nodded  briskly. 

"Si,  si,  signor.  He  has  a  bad  memory  as  it  is — it  shak 
grow  worse  at  your  command  !  Believe  it  ! " 

I  laughed,  shook  hands,  and  parted  with  the  friendly  little 
fellow,  he  returning  to  the  Molo,  and  I  slowly  walking  home- 
ward by  way  of  the  Villa  Reale.  An  open  carriage  coming 
swiftly  toward  me  attracted  my  attention  ;  as  it  drew  nearer 
I  recognized  the  prancing  steeds  and  the  familiar  liveries.  A 
fair  woman  clad  in  olive  velvets  and  Russian  sables  looked 
out  smiling,  and  waved  her  hand. 

It  was  my  wife — my  betrothed  bride,  and  beside  her  sat 
the  Duchess  di  Marina,  the  most  irreproachable  of  matrons, 
famous  for  her  piety  not  only  in  Naples  but  throughout 
Italy.  So  immaculate  was  she  that  it  was  difficult  to  imagine 
her  husband  daring  to  caress  that  upright,  well-dressed  form, 
or  venturing  to  kiss  those  prim  Tips,  colder  than  the  carven 
beads  of  her  jeweled  rosary.  Yet  there  was  a  story  about  her 
too — an  old  story  that  came  from  Padua — of  how  a  young 
and  handsome  nobleman  had  been  found  dead  at  her  palace 
doors,  stabbed  to  the  heart.  Perhaps — who  knows — he  also 
might  have  thought — 

"  Che  bella  cosa  2  de  morire  acciso, 
Nnanze  a  la  porta  de  la  nnamorata  !' 

Some  said  the  duke  had  killed  him  ;  but  nothing  could  be 
proved,  nothing  was  certain.  The  duke  was  silent,  so  was 
his  duchess  ;  and  Scandal  herself  sat  meekly  with  closed  lips 
in  the  presence  of  this  stately  and  august  couple,  whose 
bearing  toward  each  other  in  society  was  a  lesson  of  complete 
etiquette  to  the  world.  What  went  on  behind  the  scenes  no 
one  could  tell.  I  raised  my  hat  with  the  profoundest  defer- 
ence as  the  carriage  containing  the  two  ladies  dashed  by ; 
I  knew  not  which  was  the  cleverest  hypocrite  of  the  two, 
therefore  I  did  equal  honor  to  both.  I  was  in  a  meditative 
and  retrospective  mood,  and  when  I  reached  the  Toledo  the 
distracting  noises,  the  cries  of  the  flower-girls,  and  venders  of 
chestnuts  and  confetti,  the  nasal  singing  of  the  street-rhymers, 
the  yells  of  punchinello,  and  the  answering  laughter  of  the 
populace,  were  all  beyond  my  endurance.  To  gratify  a  sudden 
whim  that  seized  me,  I  made  my  way  into  the  lowest  and 
dirtiest  quarters  of  the  city,  and  roamed  through  wretched 


VENDETTA!  275 

Courts  and  crowded  alleys,  trying  to  discover  that  one 
miserable  street  which  until  now  I  had  always  avoided  even 
the  thought  of,  where  I  had  purchased  the  coral-fisher's 
clothes  on  the  day  of  my  return  from  the  grave.  I  went  in 
many  wrong  directions,  but  at  last  I  found  it,  and  saw  at  a 
glance  that  the  old  rag-dealer's  shop  was  still  there,  in  its 
former  condition  of  heterogeneous  filth  and  disorder.  A 
man  sat  at  the  door  smoking,  but  not  the  crabbed  and  bent 
figure  I  had  before  seen — this  was  a  younger  and  stouter 
individual,  with  a  Jewish  cast  of  countenance,  and  dark, 
ferocious  eyes.  I  approached  him,  and  seeing  by  my  dress 
and  manner  that  I  was  some  person  of  consequence,  he  rose, 
drew  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  raised  his  greasy  cap  with 
a  respectful  yet  suspicious  air. 

"  Are  you  the  owner  of  this  place  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Si,  signor  !  " 

"  What  has  become  of  the  old  man  who  used  to  live 
here  ? " 

He  laughed,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  drew  his  pipe- 
stem  across  his  throat  with  a  significant  gesture. 

"  So,  signor  ! — with  a  sharp  knife  !  He  had  a  good  deal 
of  blood,  too,  for  so  withered  a  body.  To  kill  himself  in  that 
fashion  was  stupid :  he  spoiled  an  Indian  shawl  that  was  on 
his  bed,  worth  more  than  a  thousand  francs.  One  would 
not  have  thought  he  had  so  much  blood." 

And  the  fellow  put  back  his  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  smoked 
complacently.  I  heard  in  sickened  silence. 

"  He  was  mad,  I  suppose  ?  "  I  said  at  last. 

The  long  pipe  was  again  withdrawn. 

"  Mad  ?  Well,  the  people  say  so.  I  for  one  think  he  was 
very  reasonable — all  except  that  matter  of  the  shawl — he 
should  have  taken  that  off  his  bed  first.  But  he  was  wise 
enough  to  know  that  he  was  of  no  use  to  anybody — he  did 
the  best  he  could  !  Did  you  know  him,  signor  ? " 

"  I  gave  him  money  once,"  I  replied,  evasively ;  then  tak- 
ing out  a  few  francs  I  handed  them  to  this  evil-eyed,  furtive- 
looking  son  of  Israel,  who  received  the  gift  with  effusive 
gratitude. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  information,"  I  said  coldly.  "  Good- 
day." 

"  Good-day  to  you,  signor,"  he  replied,  resuming  his  seat 
and  watching  me  curiously  as  I  turned  away. 

I  passed  out  of  the  wretched  street  feeling  faint  and  giddy. 
The  end  of  the  miserable  rag-dealer  had  bee&  told  to  me 


276  VENDETTA  /[ 

briefly  and  brutally  enough — yet  somehow  I  was  moved  to  a 
sense  of  regret  and  pity.  Abjectly  poor,  half  crazy,  and 
utterly  friendless,  he  had  been  a  brother  of  mine  in  the  same 
bitterness  and  irrevocable  sorrow.  I  wondered  with  a  half 
shudder — would  my  end  be  like  his?  When  my  vengeance 
was  completed  should  I  grow  shrunken,  and  old,  and  mad, 
and  one  lurid  day  draw  a  sharp  knife  across  my  throat  as  a 
finish  to  my  life's  history  ?  I  walked  more  rapidly  to  shake 
off  the  morbid  fancies  that  thus  insidiously  crept  in  on  my 
brain ;  and  as  before,  the  noise  and  glitter  of  the  Toledo 
had  been  unbearable,  so  now  I  found  it  a  relief  and  a  dis- 
traction. Two  maskers  bedizened  in  violet  and  gold  whizzed 
past  me  like  a  flash,  one  of  them  yelling  a  stale  jest  concern- 
ing la  nnamorata — a  jest  I  scarcely  heard,  and  certainly  had 
no  heart  or  wit  to  reply  to.  A  fair  woman  I  knew  leaned 
out  of  a  gayly  draped  balcony  and  dropped  a  bunch  of  roses 
at  my  feet ;  out  of  courtesy  I  stooped  to  pick  them  up,  and 
then  raising  my  hat  I  saluted  the  dark-eyed  donor,  but  a  few 
paces  on  I  gave  them  away  to  a  ragged  child.  Of  all  flowers 
that  bloom,  they  were,  and  still  are,  the  most  insupportable 
to  me.  What  is  it  the  English  poet  Swinburne  says — 

"  I  shall  never  befriends  again  with,  roses  /" 

My  wife  wore  them  always  :  even  on  that  night  when  I  had 
seen  her  clasped  in  Guide's  arms,  a  red  rose  on  her  breast 
had  been  crushed  in  that  embrace — a  rose  whose  withered 
leaves  I  still  possess.  In  the  forest  solitude  where  I  now 
dwell  there  are  no  roses — and  I  am  glad  !  The  trees  are  too 
high,  the  tangle  of  bramble  and  coarse  brushwood  too  dense 
— nothing  grows  here  but  a  few  herbs  and  field  flowers — 
weeds  unfit  for  wearing  by  fine  ladies,  yet  to  my  taste  in- 
finitely sweeter  than  all  the  tenderly  tinted  cups  of  fragrance, 
whose  colors  and  odors  are  spoiled  to  me  forever.  I  am  un- 
just, say  you  ?  the  roses  are  innocent  of  evil  ?  True  enough, 
but  their  perfume  awakens  memory,  and — I  strive  always  to 
forget ! 

I  reached  my  hotel  that  evening  to  find  that  I  was  an  hour 
late  for  dinner,  an  unusual  circumstance,  which  had  caused 
Vincenzo  some  disquietude,  as  was  evident  from  the  relieved 
expression  of  his  face  when  I  entered.  For  some  days  the 
honest  fellow  had  watched  me  with  anxiety ;  my  abstracted 
moods,  the  long  solitary  walks  I  was  in  the  habit  of  taking, 
the  evenings  I  passed  ID  my  room  writing,  with  the  doors 


VENDETTA  !  277 

locked — all  this  behavior  on  my  part  exercised  his  patience, 
I  have  no  doubt,  to  the  utmost  limit,  and  I  could  see  he  had 
much  ado  to  observe  his  usual  discretion  and  tact,  and  re- 
frain from  asking  questions.  On  this  particular  occasion  I 
dined  very  hastily,  for  I  had  promised  to  join  my  wife  and 
two  of  her  lady  friends  at  the  theater  that  night. 

When  I  arrived  there,  she  was  already  seated  in  her  box, 
looking  radiantly  beautiful.  She  was  attired  in  some  soft, 
sheeny,  clinging  primrose  stuff,  and  the  brigand's  jewels  I  had 
given  her  through  Guide's  hands,  flashed  brilliantly  on  her 
uncovered  neck  and  arms.  She  greeted  me  with  her  usual 
child-like  enthusiasm  as  I  entered,  bearing  the  customary 
offering — a  costly  bouquet,  set  in  a  holder  of  mother-of-pearl 
studded  with  turquois,  for  her  acceptance.  I  bowed  to  her 
lady  friends,  both  of  whom  I  knew,  and  then  stood  beside  her 
watching  the  stage.  The  comedietta  played  there  was  the 
airiest  trifle — it  turned  on  the  old  worn-out  story — a  young 
wife,  an  aged,  doting  husband,  and  a  lover  whose  principles 
were,  of  course,  of  the  "  noblest "  type.  The  husband  was 
fooled  (naturally),  and  the  chief  amusement  of  the  piece  ap- 
peared to  consist  in  his  being  shut  out  of  his  own  house  in 
dressing-gown  and  slippers  during  a  pelting  storm  of  rain, 
while  his  spouse  (who  was  particularly  specified  as  "pure  ") 
enjoyed  a  luxurious  supper  with  her  highly  moral  and  virtuous 
admirer.  My  wife  laughed  delightedly  at  the  poor  jokes  and 
the  stale  epigrams,  and  specially  applauded  the  actress  who 
successfully  supported  the  chief  role.  This  actress,  by  the 
way,  was  a  saucy,  brazen-faced  jade,  who  had  a  trick  of  flash- 
ing her  black  eyes,  tossing  her  head,  and  heaving  her  ample 
bosom  tumultuously  whenever  she  hissed  out  the  words 
Vecchidccio  maladetto  *  at  her  discomfited  husband,  which  had 
an  immense  effect  on  the  audience — an  audience  which  en- 
tirely sympathized  with  her,  though  she  was  indubitably  in 
the  wrong.  I  watched  Nina  in  some  derision  as  she  nodded 
her  fair  head  and  beat  time  to  the  music  with  her  painted  fan. 
I  bent  over  her. 

"  The  play  pleases  you  ?  "  I  asked,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  "  she  answered,  with  a  laughing  light  in  her 
eyes.  "The  husband  is  so  droll !  It  is  all  very  amusing." 

"  The  husband  is  always  droll !  '  I  remarked,  smiling  coldly. 
"  It  is  not  a  temptation  to  marry  when  one  knows  that  as  a 
husband  one  must  always  look  ridiculous." 

*  Accursed,  villainous  old  monster. 


178  VENDETTA  I 

She  glanced  up  at  me. 

'•  Cesare  !  You  surely  are  not  vexed  ?  Of  course  it  is  only 
in  plays  that  it  happens  so  !  " 

"  Plays,  cam  mia,  are  often  nothing  but  the  reflex  of  real 
life,"  I  said  "  But  let  us  hope  there  are  exceptions,  and 
that  all  husbands  are  not  fools." 

She  smiled  expressively  and  sweetly,  toyed  with  the  flowers 
I  had  given  her,  and  turned  her  eyes  again  to  the  stage.  I 
said  no  more,  and  was  a  somewhat  moody  companion  for  the 
rest  of  the  evening.  As  we  all  left  the  theater  one  of  the 
ladies  who  had  accompanied  Nina  said  lightly : 

"You  seem  dull  and  out  of  spirits,  conte?" 

I  forced  a  smile. 

"  Not  I,  signora !  Surely  you  do  not  find  me  guilty  of  such 
ungallantry?  Were  I  dull  in  your  company  I  should  prove 
myself  the  most  ungrateful  of  my  sex." 

She  sighed  somewhat  impatiently.  She  was  very  young 
and  very  lovely,  and,  as  far  as  I  knew,  innocent,  and  of  a 
more  thoughtful  and  poetical  temperament  than  most  wo- 
men. 

"  That  is  the  mere  language  of  compliment,"  she  said, 
looking  straightly  at  me  with  her  clear,  candid  eyes.  "  You 
are  a  true  courtier  !  Yet  often  I  think  your  courtesy  is 
reluctant." 

I  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise. 

"  Reluctant  ?  Signora,  pardon  me  if  I  do  not  under- 
stand ! " 

"  I  mean,"  she  continued,  still  regarding  me  steadily, 
though  a  faint  blush  warmed  the  clear  pallor  of  her  delicate 
complexion,  "  that  you  do  not  really  like  us  women  ;  you  say 
pretty  things  to  us,  and  you  try  to  be  amiable  in  our  com- 
pany, but  you  are  in  truth  averse  to  our  ways — you  are  scep- 
tical— you  think  we  are  all  hypocrites." 

I  laughed  a  little  coldly. 

"  Really,  signora,  your  words  place  me  in  a  very  awkward 
position.  Were  I  to  tell  you  my  real  sentiments — 

She  interrupted  me  with  a  touch  of  her  fan  on  my  arm, 
and  smiled  gravely. 

"  You  would  say,  '  Yes,  you  are  right,  signora.  I  never 
see  one  of  your  sex  without  suspecting  treachery.'  Ah, 
Signer  Conte,  we  women  are  indeed  full  of  faults,  but  noth- 
ing can  blind  our  instinct!"  She  paused,  and  her  brilliant 
eyes  softened  as  she  added  gently,  "  I  pray  your  marriage 
may  be  a  very  happy  one." 


VENDETTA !  279 

I  was  silent.  I  was  not  even  courteous  enough  to  thank 
her  for  the  wish.  I  was  half  angered  that  this  girl  should 
have  been  able  to  probe  my  thoughts  so  quickly  and  unerr- 
ingly. Was  I  so  bad  an  actor  after  all  ?  I  glanced  down 
at  her  as  she  leaned  lightly  on  my  arm, 

"  Marriage  is  a  mere  comedietta"  I  said,  abruptly  and 
harshly.  "  We  have  seen  it  acted  to-night.  In  a  few  days  I 
shall  play  the  part  of  the  chief  buffoon — in  other  words,  the 
husband." 

And  I  laughed.  My  young  companion  looked  startled, 
almost  frightened,  and  over  her  fair  face  there  flitted  an  ex- 
pression of  something  like  aversion.  I  did  not  care — why 
should  I  ? — and  there  was  no  time  for  more  words  between 
us,  for  we  had  reached  the  outer  vestibule  of  the  theater. 

My  wife's  carriage  was  drawn  up  at  the  entrance — my  wife 
herself  was  stepping  into  it.  I  assisted  her,  and  also  her  two 
friends,  and  then  stood  with  uncovered  head  at  the  door 
wishing  diem  all  the  "felicissima  notte"  Nina  put  her  tiny 
jeweled  hand  through  the  carriage  window — I  stooped  and 
kissed  it  lightly.  Drawing  it  back  quickly,  she  selected  a 
white  gardenia  from  her  bouquet  and  gave  it  to  me  with  a 
bewitching  smile. 

Then  the  glittering  equipage  dashed  away  with  a  whirl  and 
clatter  of  prancing  hoofs  and  rapid  wheels,  and  I  stood 
alone  under  the  wide  portico  of  the  theater — alone,  amid  the 
pressing  throngs  of  the  people  who  were  still  coming  out  of 
the  house — holding  the  strongly  scented  gardenia  in  my  hand 
as  vaguely  as  a  fevered  man  who  finds  a  strange  flower  in 
one  of  his  sick  dreams. 

After  a  minute  or  two  I  suddenly  recollected  myself,  and 
throwing  the  blossom  on  the  ground,  I  crushed  it  savagely 
beneath  my  heel — the  penetrating  odor  rose  from  its  slain 
petals  as  though  a  vessel  of  incense  had  been  emptied  at  my 
feet.  There  was  a  nauseating  influence  in  it ;  "where  had  I 
inhaled  that  subtle  perfume  last  ?  I  remembered — Gtiido 
Ferrari  had  worn  one  of  those  flowers  in  his  coat  at  my  ban- 
quet— it  had  been  still  in  his  buttonhole  when  I  killed 
him  ! 

I  strode  onward  and  homeward  ;  the  streets  were  full  of 
mirth  and  music,  but  I  heeded  none  of  it.  I  felt,  rather  than 
saw,  the  quiet  sky  bending  above  me  dotted  with  its  count- 
less millions  of  luminous  worlds  ;  I  was  faintly  conscious  of 
the  soft  plash  of  murmuring  waves  mingling  with  the  dulcet 
chords  of  deftly  played  mandolins  echoing  from  somewhere 


28o  VENDETTA! 

down  by  the  shore  ;  but  my  soul  was,  as  it  were,  benumbed 
— my  mind,  always  on  the  alert,  was  for  once  utterly  tired 
out — my  very  limbs  ached,  and  when  I  at  last  flung  myself 
on  my  bed,  exhausted,  my  eyes  closed  instantly,  and  I  slept 
the  heavy,  motionless  sleep  of  a  man  weary  unto  death. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"  TOUT  le  monde  vient  a  celui  qui  sait  attendre."  So 
wrote  the  great  Napoleon.  The  virtue  of  the  aphorism  con- 
sists in  the  little  words  qui  sait.  All  the  world  comes  to  him 
who  knows  how  to  wait,  /knew  this,  and  I  had  waited,  and 
my  world — a  world  of  vengeance — came  to  me  at  last. 

The  slow-revolving  wheel  of  Time  brought  me  to  the  day 
before  my  strange  wedding — the  eve  of  my  remarriage  with 
my  own  wife  !  All  the  preparations  were  made — nothing 
was  left  undone  that  could  add  to  the  splendor  of  the  oc- 
casion. For  though  the  nuptial  ceremony  was  to  be  some- 
what quiet  and  private  in  character,  and  the  marriage  break- 
fast was  to  include  only  a  few  of  our  more  intimate  acquaint- 
ances, the  proceedings  were  by  no  means  to  terminate  tamely. 
The  romance  of  these  remarkable  espousals  was  not  to  find 
its  conclusion  in  bathos.  No ;  the  bloom  and  aroma  of  the 
interesting  event  were  to  be  enjoyed  in  the  evening,  when  a 
grand  supper  and  ball,  given  by  me,  the  happy  and  much- 
to-be-envied  bridegroom,  was  to  take  place  in  the  hotel 
which  I  had  made  my  residence  for  so  long.  No  expense 
was  spared  for  this,  the  last  entertainment  offered  by  me  in 
my  brilliant  career  as  a  successful  Count  Cesare  Oliva. 
After  it,  the  dark  curtain  would  fall  on  the  played-out  drama, 
never  to  rise  again. 

Everything  that  art,  taste,  and  royal  luxury  could  suggest 
was  included  in  the  arrangements  for  this  brilliant  ball,  to 
which  a  hundred  and  fifty  guests  had  been  invited,  not  one 
of  whom  had  refused  to  attend. 

And  now — now,  in  the  afternoon  of  this,  the  last  of  my  self- 
imposed  probation — I  sat  alone  with  my  fair  wife  in  the 
drawing-room  of  the  Villa  Romani,  conversing  lightly  on 
various  subjects  connected  with  the  festivities  of  the  coming 
morrow.  The  l«ng  windows  were  open — the  warm  spring 
sunlight  lay  like  a  filmy  veil  of  woven  gold  on  the  tender 
green  of  the  young  grass,  birds  sung  for  joy  and  flitted  from 


VENDETTA!  281 

branch  to  branch,  now  poising  hoveringly  above  their  nests, 
now  soaring  with  all  the  luxury  of  perfect  liberty  into  the 
high  heaven  of  cloudless  blue — the  great  creamy  buds  of  the 
magnolia  looked  ready  to  burst  into  wide  and  splendid 
flower  between  their  large,  darkly  shining  leaves,  the  odor 
of  violets  and  primroses  floated  on  every  delicious  breath  of 
air,  and  round  the  wide  veranda  the  climbing  white  china 
roses  had  already  unfurled  their  little  crumpled  rosette-like 
blossoms  to  the  balmy  wind.  It  was  spring  in  Southern 
Xtaly — spring  in  the  land  where,  above  all  other  lands,  spring 
is  lovely — sudden  and  brilliant  in  its  beauty  as  might  be  the 
smile  of  a  happy  angel.  Gran  Dio  ! — talk  of  angels  !  Had  I 
not  a  veritable  angel  for  my  companion  at  that  moment  ? 
What  fair  being,  even  in  Mohammed's  Paradise  of  Houris, 
could  outshine  such  charms  as  those  which  it  was  my  proud 
privilege  to  gaze  upon  without  rebuke — dark  eyes,  rippling 
golden  hair,  a  dazzling  and  perfect  face,  a  form  to  tempt  the 
virtue  of  a  Galahad,  and  lips  that  an  emperor  might  long  to 
touch — in  vain  ?  Well,  no  !— not  altogether  in  vain  :  if  his 
imperial  majesty  could  offer  a  bribe  large  enough — let  us  say 
a  diamond  the  size  of  a  pigeon's  egg — he  might  possibly 
purchase  one,  nay  ! — perhaps  two  kisses  from  that  seductive 
red  mouth,  sweeter  than  the  ripest  strawberry.  I  glanced  at 
her  furtively  from  time  to  time  when  she  was  not  aware  of 
my  gaze  ;  and  glad  was  I  of  the  sheltering  protection  of  the 
dark  glasses  I  wore,  for  I  knew  and  felt  that  there  was 
a  terrible  look  in  my  eyes — the  look  of  a  half-famished  tiger 
ready  to  spring  on  some  long-desired  piece  of  prey.  She 
herself  was  exceptionally  bright  and  cheerful ;  with  her 
riante  features  and  agile  movements,  she  reminded  me  of  some 
tropical  bird  of  gorgeous  plumage  swaying  to  and  fro  on  a 
branch  of  equally  gorgeous  blossom. 

11  You  are  like  a  prince  in  a  fairy  tale,  Cesare,"  she  said, 
with  a  little  delighted  laugh  ;  "  everything  you  do  is  superbly 
done !  How  pleasant  it  is  to  be  so  rich — there  is  nothing 
better  in  all  the  world." 

"  Except  love  !  "  I  returned,  with  a  grim  attempt  to  be  sen- 
timental. 

Her  large  eyes  softened  like  the  pleading  eyes  of  a  tame 
fawn. 

"  Ay,  yes  ! "  and  she  smiled  with  expressive  tenderness, 
"  except  love.  But  when  one  has  both  love  and  wealth, 
what  a  paradise  life  can  be  1 " 

"  So  great   a  paradise,"  I  assented,  "  that  it  is   hardty 


282  VENDETTA! 

worth  while  trying  to  get  into  heaven  at  all !  Will  you  make 
earth  a  heaven  for  me,  Nina  ;///</,  or  will  you  only  love  me 
as  much — or  as  little — as  you  loved  your  late  husband  ? '' 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  pouted  like  a  spoilt  child, 

"Why  are  you  so  fond  of  talking  about  my  late  husband, 
Cesare  ?"  she  asked,  peevishly  ;  "  I  am  so  tired  of  his  name  ( 
Besides,  one  does  not  always  care  to  be  reminded  of  dead 
people — and  he  died  so  horribly  too  !  I  have  often  told  you 
that  I  did  not  love  him  at  all.  I  liked  him  a  little,  and  1  was 
quite  ill  when  that  dreadful  monk,  who  looked  like  a  ghost 
himself,  came  and  told  me  he  was  dead.  Fancy  hearing 
such  a  piece  of  news  suddenly,  while  I  was  actually  at 
luncheon  with  Gui — Signore  Ferrari !  We  were  both  shocked, 
of  course,  but  I  did  not  break  my  heart  over  it.  Now  I 
really  do  love  you " 

I  drew  nearer  to  her  on  the  couch  where  she  sat,  and  put 
one  arm  round  her. 

"  You  really  do  ?  "  I  asked,  in  a  half-incredulous  tone  ; 
"  you  are  quite  sure  ? " 

She  laughed  and  nestled  her  head  on  my  shoulder. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  !  How  many  times  have  you  asked  me 
that  absurd  question  ?  What  can  I  say,  what  can  I  do — to 
make  you  believe  me  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  I  answered,  and  answered  truly,  for  certainly 
nothing  she  could  say  or  do  would  make  me  believe  her  fora 
moment.  "  But  how  do  you  love  me — for  myself  or  for  my 
wealth  ? " 

She  raised  her  head  with  a  proud,  graceful  gesture. 

"  For  yourself,  of  course  !  Do  you  think  mere  wealth  could 
ever  win  my  affection  ?  No,  Cesare  !  I  love  you  for  your 
own  sake — your  own  merits  have  made  you  dear  to  me." 

I  smiled  bitterly.  She  did  not  see  the  smile.  I  slowly 
caressed  her  silky  hair. 

"  For  that  sweet  answer,  carissima  mia,  you  shall  hav .:> 
your  reward.  You  called  me  a  fairy  prince  just  now — perhaps 
I  merit  that  title  more  than  you  know.  You  remember  the 
jewels  I  sent  you  before  we  ever  met  ? " 

"  Remember  them  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  They  are  my 
choicest  ornaments.  Such  &parure  is  fit  for  an  empress." 

"And  an  empress  of  beauty  wears  them  !  "  I  said,  lightly. 
"  But  they  are  mere  trifles  compared  to  other  gems  which  I 
possess,  and  which  I  intend  to  offer  for  your  acceptance." 

Hei  eyes  glistened  with  avarice  and  expectancy. 

"  Qh,  let  me  see  them  1 "  she  gried.     "  Jf  they  are  lovelier 


VENDETTA!  283 

than  those  I  already  have,  they  must  be  indeed  magnificent ! 
And  are  they  all  for  me  ?  " 

"  All  for  you  !  "  I  replied,  drawing  her  closer,  and  playing 
with  the  small  white  hand  on  which  the  engagement-ring  i 
had  placed  there  sparkled  so  bravely.  "All  for  my  bride. 
A  little  hoard  of  bright  treasures  ;  red  rubies,  ay — as  red  as 
blood — diamonds  as  brilliant  as  the  glittering  of  crossed  dag- 
gers— sapphires  as  blue  as  the  lightning — pearls  as  pure  as  the 
little  folded  hands  of  a  dead  child — opals  as  dazzlingly 
changeful  as  woman's  love  !  Why  do  you  start  ? "  for  she  had 
moved  restlessly  in  my  embrace.  "  Do  I  use  bad  similes  ? 
Ah,  cara  mia,  I  am  no  poet !  I  can  but  speak  of  things  as 
they  seem  to  my  poor  judgment.  Yes,  these  precious  things 
are  for  you,  bellissima;  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  take 
them,  and  may  they  bring  you  much  joy  ! " 

A  momentary  pallor  had  stolen  over  her  face  while  I  was 
speaking — speaking  in  my  customary  hard,  harsh  voice,  which 
I  strove  to  render  even  harder  and  harsher  than  usual — but 
she  soon  recovered  from  whatever  passing  emotion  she  may 
have  felt,  and  gave  herself  up  to  the  joys  of  vanity  and  greed, 
the  paramount  passions  of  her  nature. 

"  I  shall  have  the  finest  jewels  in  all  Naples !  "  she  laughed, 
delightedly.  "  How  the  women  will  envy  me  !  But  where 
are  these  treasures  ?  May  I  see  them  now — immediately  ?  " 

"  No,  not  quite  immediately,"  I  replied,  with  a  gentle  de- 
rision that  escaped  her  observation.  "  To-morrow  night — 
our  marriage  night — you  shall  have  them.  And  I  must  also 
fulfill  a  promise  I  made  to  you.  You  wish  to  see  me  for 
once  without  these,"  and  I  touched  my  dark  glasses — "  is  it 
not  so  ?  " 

She  raised  her  eyes,  conveying  into  their  lustrous  depths 
an  expression  of  melting  tenderness. 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured  ;  "  I  want  to  see  you  as  you  are  f" 

"  I  fear  you  will  be  disappointed,"  I  said,  with  some  irony, 
"  for  my  eyes  are  not  pleasant  to  look  at." 

"  Never  mind,"  she  returned,  gayly.  "  I  shall  be  satisfied 
if  I  see  them  just  once,  and  we  need  not  have  much  light  in 
the  room,  as  the  light  gives  you  pain.  I  would  not  be  the 
cause  of  suffering  to  you — no,  not  for  all  the  world  !  " 

"  You  are  very  amiable,"  I  answered,  "  more  so  than  I  de- 
serve. I  hope  I  may  prove  worthy  of  your  tenderness  !  But 
to  return  to  the  subject  of  the  jewels.  I  wish  you  to  see  them 
for  yourself  ancl  choose  the  best  among  them.  Will  you  come 


284  VENDETTA] 

with  me  tomorrow  night  ?  and  I  will  show  you  where  they 
are." 

She  laughed  sweetly. 

"  Are  you  a  miser,  Cesare  ? — and  have  you  some  secret 
hiding-place  full  of  treasure  like  Aladdin  ?  "' 

I  smiled. 

"  Perhaps  I  have,"  I  said.  "  There  are  exceptional  cases  in 
which  one  fears  to  trust  even  to  a  bank.  Gems  such  as  those 
I  have  to  offer  you  are  almost  priceless,  and  it  would  be  un- 
wise, almost  cruel  to  place  such  tempting  toys  within  the  reach 
of  even  an  honest  man.  At  any  rate,  if  I  have  been  some- 
thing of  a  miser,  it  is  for  your  sake  ;  for  your  sake  I  have  per- 
sonally guarded  the  treasure  that  is  to  be  your  bridal  gift. 
You  cannot  blame  me  for  this  ?  " 

In  answer  she  threw  her  fair  arms  round  my  neck  and 
kissed  me.  Strive  against  it  as  I  would,  I  always  shuddered 
at  the  touch  of  her  lips — a  mingled  sensation  of  loathing  and 
longing  possessed  me  that  sickened  while  it  stung  my  soul. 

"Amormio!"  she  murmured.  "As  if  /could  blame 
you !  You  have  no  faults  in  my  estimation  of  you.  You 
are  good,  brave  and  generous — the  best  of  men ;  there  is 

only  one  thing  I  wish  sometimes "  Here  she  paused, 

and  her  brow  knitted  itself  frowningly,  while  a  puzzled, 
pained  expression  came  into  her  eyes. 

"  And  that  one  thing  is  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  That  you  did  not  remind  me  so  often  of  Fabio,"  she 
said,  abruptly  and  half  angrily.  "  Not  when  you  speak  of 
him,  I  do  not  mean  that.  What  I  mean  is,  that  you  have 
ways  like  his.  Of  course  I  know  there  is  no  actual  resem- 
blance, and  yet "  She  paused  again,  and  again  looked 

troubled. 

"  Really,  carina,  mia"  I  remarked,  lightly  and  jestingly, 
"  you  embarrass  me  profoundly  !  This  fancy  of  yours  is  a 
most  awkward  one  for  me.  At  the  convent  where  I  visited 
you,  you  became  quite  ill  at  the  contemplation  of  my  hand, 
which  you  declared  was  like  the  hand  of  your  deceased  hus- 
band ;  and  now — this  same  foolish  idea  is  returning,  when  I 
hoped  it  had  gone,  with  other  morbid  notions  of  an  oversen- 
sitive brain,  forever.  Perhaps  you  think  I  am  your  late  hus- 
band ?  " 

And  I  laughed  aloud  !  She  trembled  a  little,  but  soon 
laughed  also. 

"  I  know  I  am  very  absurd,"  she  said,  "  perhaps  I  am  a 
little  nervous  and  unstrung ;  I  have  had  too  much  excite* 


VENDETTA!  28$ 

ment  lately.  Tell  me  more  about  the  jewels.  When  will  you 
take  me  to  see  them  ? " 

"  To-morrow  night,"  I  answered,  "  while  the  ball  is  going 
on,  you  and  I  will  slip  away  together — we  shall  return  again 
before  any  of  our  friends  can  miss  us.  You  will  come  with 
me  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  she  replied,  readily,  "  only  we  must 
not  be  long  absent,  because  my  maid  will  have  to  pack  my 
wedding-dress,  and  then  there  will  be  the  jewels  also  to  put 
in  my  strong  box.  Let  me  see  !  We  stay  the  night  at  the 
hotel,  and  leave  for  Rome  and  Paris  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  do  we  not  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  arrangement,  certainly,"  I  said,  with  a  cold 
smile. 

"  The  little  place  where  you  have  hidden  your  jewels,  you 
droll  Cesare,  is  quite  near  tnen  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Quite  near,"  I  assented,  watching  her  closely. 

She  laughed  and  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  I  must  have  them,"  she  exclaimed.  "  It  would  be 
ridiculous  to  go  to  Paris  without  them.  But  why  will  you 
not  get  them  yourself,  Cesare,  and  bring  them  here  to  me  ? " 

"There  are  so  many,"  I  returned,  quietly,  "and  I  do  not 
know  which  you  would  prefer.  Some  are  more  valuable 
than  others.  And  it  will  give  me  a  special  satisfaction — one 
that  I  have  long  waited  for — to  see  you  making  your  own 
choice." 

She  smiled  half  shyly,  half  cunningly. 

"  Perhaps  I  will  make  no  choice,"  she  whispered,  "perhaps 
I  will  take  them  all,  Cesare.  What  will  you  say  then  ? " 

"  That  you  are  perfectly  welcome  to  them,"  I  replied. 

She  looked  slightly  surprised. 

"  You  are  really  too  good  to  me,  caro  mio"  she  said ;  "  you 
spoil  me." 

"  Can  you  be  spoiled  ?"  I  asked,  half  jestingly.  "Good 
women  are  like  fine  brilliants — the  more  richly  they  are  set 
the  more  they  shine." 

She  stroked  my  hand  caressingly. 

"  No  one  ever  made  such  pretty  speeches  to  me  as  yov 
do  1 "  she  murmured. 

"  Not  even  Guido  Ferrari  ?  "  I  suggested,  ironically. 

She  drew  herself  up  with  an  inimitably  well-acted  gesture 
of  lofty  disdain. 

"  Guido  Ferrari !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  He  dared  not  address 
me  save  with  the  greatest  respect!  I  was  as  a  queen  to  him  1 


VENDETTA  f 

It  was  only  lately  that  he  began  to  presume  on  the  trust  left 
him  by  my  husband,  and  then  he  became  too  familiar — a 
mistake  on  his  part,  for  which  you  punished  him — as  he 
deserved  !  " 

I  rose  from  my  seat  beside  her.  I  could  not  answer  for 
my  own  composure  while  sitting  so  close  to  the  actual 
murderess  of  /^friend  and  her  lover.  Had  she  fc -gotten 
her  own  "  familiar  "  treatment  of  the  dead  man — the  thou- 
sand nameless  wiles  and  witcheries  and  tricks  of  her  trade, 
by  which  she  had  beguiled  his  soul  and  ruined  his  honor? 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  satisfied  with  my  action  in  that  affair," 
I  said,  coldly  and  steadily.  "  I  myself  regret  the  death  of 
the  unfortunate  young  man,  and  shall  continue  to  do  so. 
My  nature,  unhappily,  is  an  oversensitive  one,  and  is  apt  to 
be  affected  by  trifles.  But  now,  mia  bella,  farewell  until  to- 
morrow— happy  to-morrow  ! — when  I  shall  call  you  mine 
indeed ! " 

A  warm  flush  tinted  her  cheeks  ;  she  came  to  me  where 
I  stood,  and  leaned  against  me. 

"  Shall  I  not  see  you  again  till  we  meet  in  the  church  ? " 
she  inquired,  with  a  becoming  bashfulness. 

"  No.  I  will  leave  you  this  last  day  of  your  brief  widow- 
hood alone.  It  is  not  well  that  I  should  obtrude  myself 
upon  your  thoughts  or  prayers.  Stay  ! "  and  I  caught  her 
hand  which  toyed  with  the  flower  in  my  buttonhole.  "  I  see 
you  still  wear  your  former  wedding-ring.  May  I  take  it 
off?" 

"Certainly."  And  she  smiled  while  I  deftly  drew  off  the 
plain  gold  circlet  I  had  placed  there  nearly  four  years 
since. 

"  Will  you  let  me  keep  it  ?  " 

"  If  you  like,     /would  rather  not  see  it  again." 

"  You  shall  not,"  I  answered,  as  I  slipped  it  into  my 
pocket.  "  It  will  be  replaced  by  a  new  one  to-morrow — one 
that  I  hope  may  be  the  symbol  of  more  joy  to  you  than  this 
has  been." 

And  as  her  eyes  turned  to  my  face  in  all  their  melting, 
perfidious  languor,  I  conquered  my  hatred  of  her  by  a  strong 
effort,  and  stooped  and  kissed  her.  Had  I  yielded  to  my 
real  impulses,  I  would  have  crushed  her  cruelly  in  my  arms, 
and  bruised  her  delicate  flesh  with  the  brutal  ferocity  of 
caresses  born  of  bitterest  loathing,  not  love.  But  no  sign  of 
my  aversion  escaped  me — all  she  saw  was  her  elderly  look- 
ing admirer,  with  his  calmly  courteous  demeanor,  chill  smile, 


VENDETTA!  287 

and  almost  parental  tenderness  ;  and  she  judged  him  merely 
as  an  influential  gentleman  of  good  position  and  unlimited 
income,  who  was  about  to  make  her  one  of  the  most  envied 
women  in  all  Italy. 

The  fugitive  resemblance  she  traced  in  me  to  her  "  dead  " 
husband  was  certainly  attributed  by  her  to  a  purely  acci- 
dental likeness  common  to  many  persons  in  this  world,  where 
every  man,  they  say,  has  his  double,  and  for  that  matter 
every  woman  also.  Who  does  not  remember  the  touching 
surprise  of  Heinrich  Heine  when,  on  visiting  the  picture- 
gallery  of  the  Palazzo  Durazzo  in  Genoa,  he  was  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  portrait,  as  he  thought,  of  a  dead 

woman  he  had  loved "  Maria  la  morte."  It  mattered  not 

to  him  that  the  picture  was  very  old,  that  it  had  been  painted 
by  Giorgio  Barbarelli  centuries  before  his  "  Maria  "  could  have 
lived  ;  he  simply  declares  :  "  II  est  vraiment d  une  ressemblance 
admirable,  ressemblant  jusqifau  silence  de  la  mort  /" 

Such  likenesses  are  common  enough,  and  my  wife,  though 
my  resemblance  to  myself  (!)  troubled  her  a  little,  was  very 
far  from  imagining  the  real  truth  of  the  matter,  as  indeed 
how  should  she  ?  What  woman,  believing  and  knowing,  as 
far  as  anything  can  be  known,  her  husband  to  be  dead  and 
fast  buried,  is  likely  to  accept  even  the  idea  of  his  possible 
escape  from  the  tomb  !  Not  one  ! — else  the  disconsolate 
widows  would  indeed  have  reason  to  be  more  inconsolable 
than  they  appear ! 

When  I  left  her  that  morning  I  found  Andrea  Luziani 
waiting  for  me  at  my  hotel.  He  was  seated  in  the  outer  en* 
trance  hall;  I  bade  him  follow  me  into  my  private  salon. 
He  did  so.  Abashed  at  the  magnificence  of  the  apartment, 
he  paused  at  the  doorway,  and  stood,  red  cap  in  hand,  hesi- 
tating, though  with  an  amiable  smile  on  his  sunburned  merry 
countenance. 

"  Come  in,  amico,"  I  said,  with  an  inviting  gesture,  "  and 
sit  down.  All  this  tawdry  show  of  velvet  and  gilding  must 
seem  common  to  your  eyes,  that  have  rested  so  long  on  the 
sparkling  pomp  of  the  foaming  waves,  the  glorious  blue  cur- 
tain of  the  sky,  and  the  sheeny  white  of  the  sails  of  the 
*  Laura '  gleaming  in  the  gold  of  the  sun.  Would  I  could 
live  such  a  life  as  yours,  Andrea ! — there  is  nothing  better 
under  the  width  of  heaven." 

The  poetical  temperament  of  the  Sicilian  was  caught  and 
fired  by  my  words.  He  at  once  forgot  the  splendid  appur- 
tenances of  wealth  and  the  costly  luxuries  that  surrounded 


288  VENDETTA! 

him  ;  he  advanced  without  embarrassment,  and  seated  him> 
self  on  a  velvet  and  gold  chair  with  as  much  ease  as  though 
it  were  a  coil  of  rough  rope  on  board  the  "  Laura." 

"  You  say  truly,  eccellenza,"  he  said,  with  a  gleam  of  his 
white  teeth  through  his  jet-black  mustache,  while  his  warm 
southern  eyes  flashed  fire,  "  there  is  nothing  sweeter  than  the 
life  of  the  marinaro.  And  truly  there  are  many  who  say  to 
me,  '  Ah,  ah !  Andrea !  buon  amico,  the  time  comes  when 
you  will  wed,  and  the  home  where  the  wife  and  children  sit 
will  seem  a  better  thing  to  you  than  the  caprice  of  the  wind 
and  waves.'  But  I — see  you  ! — I  know  otherwise.  The 
woman  I  wed  must  love  the  sea ;  she  must  have  the  fear- 
less eyes  that  can  look  God's  storms  in  the  face — her 
tender  words  must  ring  out  all  the  more  clearly  for  the  sound 
of  the  bubbling  waves  leaping  against  the  '  Laura '  when  the 
wind  is  high  !  And  as  for  our  children,"  he  paused  and 
laughed,  "per  la  Santissima  Madonna  f  if  the  salt  and  iron 
of  the  ocean  be  not  in  their  blood,  they  will  be  no  children 
of  mine  !  " 

I  smiled  at  his  enthusiasm,  and  pouring  out  some  choice 
Montepulciano,  bade  him  taste  it.  He  did  so  with  a  keen 
appreciation  of  its  flavor,  such  as  many  a  so-called  connois- 
seur of  wines  does  not  possess. 

"  To  your  health,  eccellenza !  "  he  said  ;  "  and  may  you 
long  enjoy  your  life  !  " 

I  thanked  him  ;  but  in  my  heart  I  was  far  from  echoing 
the  kindly  wish. 

"  And  are  you  going  to  fulfill  the  prophecy  of  your  friends, 
Andrea  ? "  I  asked.  "  Are  you  about  to  marry  ?  " 

He  set  down  his  glass  only  partly  emptied,  and  smiled  with 
an  air  of  mystery. 

"  Ebbene  I  chi  sa  !  "  he  replied,  with  a  gay  little  shrug  of 
his  shoulders,  yet  with  a  sudden  tenderness  in  his  keen  eyes 
that  did  not  escape  me.  "There  is  a  maiden — my  mother 
loves  her  well — she  is  little  and  fair  as  Carmelo  Neri's  Teresa 
— so  high,"  and  he  hiid  his  brown  hand  lightly  on  his  breast, 
"her  head  touches  just  here,"  and  he  laughed.  "  She  looks 
as  frail  as  a  lily,  but  she  is  hardy  as  a  sea-gull,  and  no  one 
loves  the  wild  waves  more  than  she.  Perhaps,  in  the  month 
of  the  Madonna,  when  the  white  lilies  bloom — perhaps  ! — one 
can  never  tell — the  old  song  may  be  sung  for  us — 

"  Chi  sa  fervente  amar 
Solo  tfelice  I  " 

And  humming  the  tune  of  the  well-known  love-ditty  under 


VENDETTA!  aSg 

his  breath,  he  raised  his  glass  of  wine  to  his  lips  and  drained 
it  off  with  a  relish,  while  his  honest  face  beamed  with  gayetj 
and  pleasure.  Always  the  same  story,  I  thought,  moodily, 
Love,  the  tempter — Love,  the  destroyer — Love,  the  curse  ! 
Was  there  no  escape  possible  from  this  bewildering  snare 
that  thus  caught  and  slew  the  souls  of  men  ? 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

HE  soon  roused  himself  from  his  pleasant  reverie,  and 
drawing  his  chair  closer  to  mine,  assumed  an  air  of  mystery. 

"And  for  your  friend  who  is  in  trouble,"  he  said,  in  a  con- 
fidential tone,  then  paused  and  looked  at  me  as  though  wait- 
ing permission  to  proceed. 

I  nodded. 

"  Go  on,  amico.     What  have  you  arranged  ?  " 

"  Everything ! "  he  announced,  with  an  air  of  triumph. 
"  All  is  smooth  sailing.  At  six  o'clock  on  Friday  morning 
the  '  Rondinella,'  that  is  the  brig  I  told  you  of,  eccellenza,  will 
weigh  anchor  for  Civita  Vecchia.  Her  captain,  old  Antonio 
Bardi,  will  wait  ten  minutes  or  even  a  quarter  of  an  hour  if 
necessary  for  the — the " 

"  Passenger,"  I  supplemented.  "  Very  amiable  of  him, 
but  he  will  not  need  to  delay  his  departure  for  a  single  instant 
beyond  the  appointed  hour.  Is  he  satisfied  with  the  passage 
money  ?  " 

"  Satisfied  ! "  and  Andrea  swore  a  good-natured  oath  and 
laughed  aloud.  "  By  San  Pietro  !  if  he  were  not,  he  would 
deserve  to  drown  like  a  dog  on  the  voyage  !  Though  truly, 
it  is  always  difficult  to  please  him,  he  being  old  and  cross  and 
crusty.  Yes  ;  he  is  one  of  those  men  who  have  seen  so  much 
of  life  that  they  are  tired  of  it.  Believe  it !  even  the  stormiest 
sea  is  a  tame  fish-pond  to  old  Bardi.  But  he  is  satisfied  this 
time,  eccellenza,  and  his  tongue  and  eyes  are  so  tied  up  that 
I  should  not  wonder  if  your  friend  found  him  to  be  both  dumb 
and  blind  when  he  steps  on  board." 

"  That  is  well,"  I  said,  smiling.  "  I  owe  you  many  thanks, 
Andrea.  And  yet  there  is  one  more  favor  I  would  ask  of 
you." 

He  saluted  me  with  a  light  yet  graceful  gesture. 

"Eccellenza,  anything  I  can  do — command  me." 

"It  is  a  mere  trifle,"  I  returned.     " it  is  merely  to  take  » 

19 


VENDETTA] 

small  valise  belonging  to  my  friend,  and  to  place  it  on  board 
the  '  Rondinella  '  under  the  care  of  the  captain.  Will  you  do 
this  ?  " 

"  Most  willingly.     I  will  take  it  now  if  it  so  please  you." 

"  That  is  what  I  desire.  Wait  here  and  I  will  bring  it  to 
you." 

And  leaving  him  for  a  minute  or  two,  I  went  into  my  bed- 
room and  took  from  a  cupboard  I  always  kept  locked  a  com- 
mon' rough  leather  bag,  which  I  had  secretly  packed  myself, 
unknown  to  Vincenzo,  with  such  things  as  I  judged  to  be  use- 
ful and  necessary.  Chief  among  them  was  a  bulky  roll  of 
bank-notes.  These  amounted  to  nearly  the  whole  of  the  re- 
mainder of  the  money  I  had  placed  in  the  bank  at  Palermo. 
I  had  withdrawn  it  by  gradual  degrees,  leaving  behind  only  a 
couple  of  thousand  francs,  for  which  I  had  no  special  need. 
I  locked  and  strapped  the  valise  ;  there  was  no  name  on  it  and 
it  was  scarcely  any  weight  to  carry.  I  took  it  to  Andrea,  who 
swung  it  easily  in  his  right  hand  and  said,  smilingly : 

"  Your  friend  is  not  wealthy,  eccellenza,  if  this  is  all  his 
luggage ! " 

"  You  are  right,"  I  answered,  with  a  slight  sigh  ;  "  he  is 
truly  very  poor — beggared  of  everything  that  should  be  his 
through  the  treachery  of  those  whom  he  has  benefited."  I 
paused  ;  Andrea  was  listening  sympathetically.  "  That  is 
why  I  have  paid  his  passage-money,  and  have  done  my  best 
to  aid  him." 

"  Ah  !  you  have  the  good  heart,  eccellenza,"  murmured  the 
Sicilian,  thoughtfully.  "  Would  there  were  more  like  you ! 
Often  when  fortune  gives  a  kick  to  a  man,  nothing  will  suit 
but  that  all  who  see  him  must  kick  him  also.  And  thus  the 
povero  diavolo  dies  of  so  many  kicks,  often  !  This  friend  of 
yours  is  young,  senza  dubbio  ?  " 

"  Yes,  quite  young,  not  yet  thirty." 

"  It  is  as  if  you  were  a  father  to  him  !  "  exclaimed  Andrea, 
enthusiastically.  "  I  hope  he  may  be  truly  grateful  to  you, 
eccellenza." 

"  I  hope  so  too,"  I  said,  unable  to  resist  a  smile.  "  And 
.now,  amico,  take  this,"  and  I  pressed  a  small  sealed  packet 
into  his  hand.  "  It  is  for  yourself.  Do  not  open  it  till  you 
are  at  home  with  the  mother  you  love  so  well,  and  the  little 
maiden  you  spoke  of  by  your  side.  If  its  contents  please  you, 
as  I  believe  they  will,  think  that  /  am  also  rendered  happier 
by  your  happiness." 

His  dark  eyes  sparkled  with  gratitude  as  I  spoke,  and  set- 


VEtfDETTA  !  291 

ting  the  valise  he  held  down  on  the  ground,  he  stretched  out 
his  hand  half  timidly,  half  frankly.  I  shook  it  warmly  and 
bade  him  farewell. 

"  Per  Bacco  \  "  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  shamefaced  eager- 
ness, "  the  very  devil  must  have  caught  my  tongue  in  his  fin- 
gers !  There  is  something  I  ought  to  say  to  you,  eccellenza, 
but  for  my  life  I  cannot  find  the  right  words.  I  must  thank 
you  better  when  I  see  you  next." 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  dreamily  and  somewhat  wearily,  "  when 
you  see  me  next,  Andrea,  you  shall  thank  me  if  you  will ;  but 
believe  me,  I  need  no  thanks." 

And  thus  we  parted,  never  to  meet  again — he  to  the  strong 

glad  life  that  is  born  of  the  wind  and  sea,  and  I  to But 

let  me  not  anticipate.  Step  by  step  through  the  labyrinths  of 
memory  let  me  go  over  the  old  ground  watered  with  blood 
and  tears,  not  missing  one  sharp  stone  of  detail  on  the  drear 
pathway  leading  to  the  bitter  end. 

That  same  evening  I  had  an  interview  with  Vincenzo.  He 
was  melancholy  and  taciturn — a  mood  which  was  the  result 
of  an  announcement  I  had  previously  made  to  him — namely, 
that  his  services  would  not  be  required  during  my  wedding- 
trip.  He  had  hoped  to  accompany  me  and  to  occupy  the 
position  of  courier,  valet,  major-domo,  and  generally  confi- 
dential attendant — a  hope  which  had  partially  soothed  the 
vexation  he  had  evidently  felt  at  the  notion  of  my  marrying 
at  all. 

His  plans  were  now  frustrated,  and  if  ever  the  good-natured 
fellow  could  be  ill-tempered,  he  was  assuredly  so  on  this 
occasion.  He  stood  before  me  with  his  usual  respectful  air, 
but  he  avoided  my  glance,  and  kept  his  eyes  studiously  fixed 
on  the  pattern  of  the  carpet.  I  addressed  him  with  an  air 
of  gayety. 

"  Ebbene,  Vincenzo  !  Joy  comes  at  last,  you  see,  even  to 
me !  To-morrow  I  shall  wed  the  Countess  Romani — the 
loveliest  and  perhaps  the  richest  woman  in  Naples !  " 

"  I  know  it,  eccellenza." 

This  with  the  same  obstinately  fixed  countenance  and 
downward  look. 

"  You  are  not  very  pleased,  I  think,  at  the  prospect  of  my 
happiness  ?  "  I  asked,  banteringly. 

He  glanced  up  for  an  instant,  then  as  quickly  down  again. 

"  If  one  could  be  sure  that  the  illustrissimo  eccellenza  was 
indeed  happy,  that  would  be  a  good  thing,"  he  answered, 


392  VENDETTA! 

"  And  are  you  not  sure  ? " 

He  paused,  then  replied  firmly  : 

"  No ;  the  eccellenza  does  not  look  happy.  No,  no, 
datw^ro  f  He  has  the  air  of  being  sorrowful  and  ill,  both 
together." 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders  indifferently. 

"  You  mistake  me,  Vincenzo.  I  am  well — very  well — and 
happy  !  Gran  Dio  /  who  could  be  happier  ?  But  what  of 
my  health  or  happiness  ? — they  are  nothing  to  me,  and  should 
be  less  to  you.  Listen  ;  I  have  something  I  wish  you  to  do 
for  me." 

He  gave  me  a  sidelong  and  half-expectant  glance.  I  went 
on  : 

"  To-morrow  evening  I  want  you  to  go  to  Avellino." 

He  was  utterly  astonished. 

"  To  Avellino  !  "  he  murmured  under  his  breath,  "  to  Avel- 
lino !  " 

"Yes,  to  Avellino,"  I  repeated,  somewhat  impatiently. 
"  Is  there  anything  so  surprising  in  that  ?  You  will  take  a  let- 
ter from  me  to  the  Signora  Monti.  Look  you,  Vincenzo,  you 
have  been  faithful  and  obedient  so  far,  I  expect  implicit 
fidelity  and  obedience  still.  You  will  not  be  needed  here 
"^D-morrow  after  the  marriage  ball  has  once  begun  ;  you  can 
fake  the  nine  o'clock  train  to  Avellino,  and — understand  me 
• — you  will  remain  there  till  you  receive  further  news  from 
me.  You  will  not  have  to  wait  long,  and  in  the  mean  time," 
here  I  smiled,  "  you  can  make  love  to  Lilla." 

Vincenzo  did  not  return  the  smile. 

"  But — but,"  he  stammered,  sorely  perplexed — "  if  I  go  to 
Avellino  I  cannot  wait  upon  the  eccellenza.  There  is  the 
portmanteau  to  pack — and  who  will  see  to  the  luggage  when 
you  leave  on  Friday  morning  for  Rome  ?  And — and — I  had 

thought  to  see  you  to  the  station "  He  stopped,  his 

vexation  was  too  great  to  allow  him  to  proceed. 

I  laughed  gently. 

"  How  many  more  trifles  can  you  think  of,  my  friend,  in 
opposition  to  my  wishes  ?  As  for  the  portmanteau,  you  can 
pack  it  this  very  day  if  you  so  please — then  it  will  be  in 
readiness.  The  rest  of  your  duties  can  for  once  be  per- 
formed by  others.  It  is  not  only  important,  but  imperative 
that  you  should  go  to  Avellino  on  my  errand.  I  want  you 
to  take  this  with  you,"  and  I  tapped  a  small  square  iron  box, 
heavily  made  and  strongly  padlocked,  which  stood  on  the 
table  near  me. 


VENDETTA !  293 

He  glanced  at  the  box,  but  still  hesitated,  and  the  gloom 
on  his  countenance  deepened.  I  grew  a  little  annoyed. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  I  said  at  last  with 
some  sternness.  "  You  have  something  on  your  mind — 
speak  out ! " 

The  fear  of  my  wrath  startled  him.  He  looked  up  with  a 
bewildered  pain  in  his  eyes,  and  spoke,  his  mellow  Tuscan 
voice  vibrating  with  his  own  eloquent  entreaty. 

"  Eccellenza  !  "  he  exclaimed,  eagerly,  "  you  must  forgive 
ile — yes,  forgive  your  poor  servant  who  seems  too  bold,  and 
who  yet  is  true  to  you — yes,  indeed,  so  true  ! — and  who  would 
go  with  you  to  death  if  there  were  need !  I  am  not  blind,  I 
can  see  your  sufferings,  for  you  do  suffer,  '/ustrifsimv,  though 
you  hide  it  well.  Often  have  I  watched  you  when  you  have 
not  known  it.  I  feel  that  you  have  what  we  call  a  wound  in 
the  heart,  bleeding,  bleeding  always.  Such  a  thing  means 
death  often,  as  much  as  a  straight  shot  in  battle.  Let  me 
watch  over  you,  eccellenza  ;  let  me  stay  with  you  !  I  have 
learned  to  love  you  !  Ah,  mio  signor,"  and  he  drew  nearer 
and  caught  my  hand  timidly,  "  you  do  not  know — how  should 
you  ? — the  look  that  is  in  your  face  sometimes,  the  look  of 
one  who  is  stunned  by  a  hard  blow.  I  have  said  to  myself 
*  That  look  will  kill  me  if  I  see  it  often.'  And  your  love  for 
this  great  lady,  whom  you  will  wed  to-morrow,  has  not  light- 
ened your  soul  as  love  should  lighten  it.  No  !  you  are  even 
sadder  than  before,  and  the  look  I  speak  of  comes  ever  again 
and  again.  Yes,  I  have  watched  you,  and  lately  I  have  seen 
you  writing,  writing  far  into  the  night,  when  you  should  have 
slept.  Ah,  signor  !  you  are  angry,  and  I  know  I  should  not 
have  spoken  ;  but  tell  me,  how  can  I  look  at  Lilla  and  be 
happy  when  I  feel  that  you  are  alone  and  sad  ?  " 

I  stopped  the  flood  of  his  eloquence  by  a  mute  gesture  and 
•withdrew  my  hand  from  his  clasp. 

"  I  am  not  angry,"  I  said,  with  quiet  steadiness,  and  yet 
vith  something  of  coldness,  though  my  whole  nature,  always 
highly  sensitive,  was  deeply  stirred  by  the  rapid,  unstudied 
expressions  of  affection  that  melted  so  warmly  from  his  lips 
in  the  liquid  music  of  the  mellow  Tuscan  tongue.  "  No,  I 
am  not  angry,  but  I  am  sorry  to  have  been  the  object  of  so 
much  solicitude  on  your  part.  Your  pity  is  misplaced,  Vin- 
cenzo,  it  is  indeed !  Pity  an  emperor  clad  in  purples  and 
seated  on  a  throne  of  pure  gold,  but  do  not  pity  me  /  I  tell 
you  that,  to-morrow,  yes,  to-morrow,  I  shall  obtain  all  that  I 
have  ever  sought — my  greatest  desire  will  be  fulfilled.  Believe 


294  VENDETTA } 

it.  No  man  has  ever  been  so  thoroughly  satiated  with— 
satisfaction — as  I  shall  be  !  " 

Then  seeing  him  look  still  sad  and  incredulous,  I  clapped 
my  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  smiled. 

"  Come,  come,  amico,  wear  a  merrier  face  for  my  bridal 
day,  or  you  will  not  deserve  to  wed  Lilla.  I  thank  you  from 
my  heart,"  and  I  spoke  more  gravely,  "for  your  well  meant 
care  and  kindness,  but  I  assure  you  there  is  nothing  wrong 
with  me.  I  am  well — perfectly  well — and  happy.  It  is  un- 
derstood that  you  go  to  Avellino  to-morrow  evening  ? " 

Vincenzo  sighed,  but  was  passive. 

"  It  must  be  as  the  eccellenza  pleases,"  he  murmured,  re- 
signedly. 

"  That  is  well,"  I  answered,  good-humoredly  ;  "  and  as  you 
know  my  pleasure,  take  care  that  nothing  interferes  with  your 
departure.  And — one  word  more — you  must  cease  to  watch 
me.  Plainly  speaking,  I  do  not  choose  to  be  under  your  sur- 
veillance. Nay — I  am  not  offended,  far  from  it,  fidelity  and 
devotion  are  excellent  virtues,  but  in  the  present  case  I 
prefer  obedience — strict,  implicit  obedience.  Whatever  I 
may  do,  whether  I  sleep  or  wake,  walk  or  sit  still — attend  to 
your  duties  and  pay  no  heed  to  my  actions.  So  will  you  best 
serve  me — you  understand  ? " 

"  Si,  signer! "  and  the  poor  fellow  sighed  again,  and  red- 
dened with  his  own  inward  confusion.  "  You  will  pardon 
me,  eccellenza,  for  my  freedom  of  speech  ?  I  feel  I  have 
done  wrong 

"  I  pardon  you  for  what  in  this  world  is  never  pardoned — 
excess  of  love,"  I  answered,  gently.  "  Knowing  you  love  me, 
I  ask  you  to  obey  me  in  my  present  wishes,  and  thus  we  shall 
always  be  friends." 

His  face  brightened  at  these  last  words,  and  his  thoughts 
turned  in  a  new  direction.  He  glanced  at  the  iron  box  I  had 
before  pointed  out  to  him. 

"  That  is  to  go  to  Avellino,  eccellenza  ?  "  he  asked,  with 
more  alacrity  than  he  had  yet  shown. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.  "  You  will  place  it  in  the  hands  of 
the  good  Signora  Monti,  for  whom  I  have  a  great  respect. 
She  will  take  care  of  it  till— I  return." 

"  Your  commands  shall  be  obeyed,  signer,"  he  said,  rapid- 
ly, as  though  eager  to  atone  for  his  past  hesitation.  "  After 
all,"  and  he  smiled,  "  it  will  be  pleasant  to  see  Lilla  ;  she  will 
be  interested,  too,  to  hear  the  account  of  the  eccellenza's 
marriage." 


VEND  ETTA  I  295 

And  somewhat  consoled  by  the  prospect  of  the  entertain- 
ment his  unlooked-for  visit  would  give  to  the  charming  little 
maiden  of  his  choice,  he  left  me,  and  shortly  afterward  I 
heard  him  humming  a  popular  love-song  softly  under  his 
breath,  while  he  busied  himself  in  packing  my  portmanteau 
for  the  honeymoon  trip — a  portmanteau  destined  never  to 
be  used  or  opened  by  its  owner. 

That  night,  contrary  to  my  usual  habit,  I  lingered  long 
over  my  dinner  ;  at  its  close  I  poured  out  a  full  glass  of 
fine  Lacrima  Cristi,  and  secretly  mixing  with  it  a  dose  of  a 
tasteless  but  powerful  opiate,  I  called  my  valet  and  bade  him 
drink  it  and  wish  me  joy.  He  did  so  readily,  draining  the 
contents  to  the  last  drop.  It  was  a  tempestuous  night ;  there 
was  a  high  wind,  broken  through  by  heavy  sweeping  gusts  of 
rain.  Vincenzo  cleared  the  dinner-table,  yawning  visibly  as 
he  did  so,  then  taking  my  out-door  paletot  on  his  arm,  he 
went  to  his  bedroom,  a  small  one  adjoining  mine,  for  the 
purpose  of  brushing  it,  according  to  his  customary  method. 
I  opened  a  book,  and  pretending  to  be  absorbed  in  its  con- 
tents, I  waited  patiently  for  about  half  an  hour. 

At  the  expiration  of  that  time  I  stole  softly  to  his  door  and 
looked  in.  It  was  as  I  had  expected  ;  overcome  by  the  sud- 
den and  heavy  action  of  the  opiate,  he  had  thrown  himself 
on  his  bed,  and  was  slumbering  profoundly,  the  unbrushed 
overcoat  by  his  side.  Poor  fellow  !  I  smiled  as  I  watched 
him  ;  the  faithful  dog  was  chained,  and  could  not  follow  my 
steps  for  that  night  at  least. 

I  left  him  thus,  and  wrapping  myself  in  a  thick  Almaviva 
that  muffled  me  almost  to  the  eyes,  I  hurried  out,  fortunately 
meeting  no  one  on  my  way — out  into  the  storm  and  darkness, 
toward  the  Campo  Santo,  the  abode  of  the  all-wise  though 
speechless  dead.  I  had  work  to  do  there — work  that  must 
be  done.  I  knew  that  if  I  had  not  taken  the  precaution  of 
drugging  my  too  devoted  servitor,  he  might,  despite  his  pro- 
testations, have  been  tempted  to  track  me  whither  I  went. 
As  it  was,  I  felt  myself  safe,  for  four  hours  must  pass,  I  knew, 
before  Vincenzo  could  awake  from  his  lethargy.  And  I  was 
absent  for  some  time. 

Though  I  performed  my  task  as  quickly  as  might  be,  it  took 
me  longer  than  I  thought,  and  filled  me  with  more  loathing 
and  reluctance  than  I  had  deemed  possible.  It  was  a  grew- 
some,  ghastly  piece  of  work — a  work  of  preparation — and  when 
1  had  finished  it  entirely  to  my  satisfaction,  I  felt  as  though 
the  bony  fingers  of  death  itself  had  been  plunged  into  my  very 


296  VENDETTA! 

marrow.  I  shivered  with  cold,  my  limbs  would  scarce  bear 
me  upright,  and  my  teeth  chattered  as  though  I  were  seized 
by  strong  ague.  But  the  fixity  of  my  purpose  strengthened 
me  till  all  was  done — till  the  stage  was  set  for  the  last  scene 
of  the  tragedy.  Or  comedy  ?  What  you  will !  I  know  that 
in  the  world  nowadays  you  make  a  husband's  dishonor  more 
of  a  whispered  jest  than  anything  else — you  and  your  heavy 
machinery  of  the  law.  But  to  me — I  am  so  strangely  con- 
stituted— dishonor  is  a  bitterer  evil  than  death.  If  all  those 
who  are  deceived  and  betrayed  felt  thus,  then  justice  would 
need  to  become  more  just.  It  is  fortunate — for  the  lawyers 
— that  we  are  not  all  honorable  men  ! 

When  I  returned  from  my  dreary  walk  in  the  driving  storm 
I  found  Vincenzo  still  fast  asleep.  I  was  glad  of  this,  for 
had  he  seen  me  in  the  plight  I  was,  he  would  have  had  good 
reason  to  be  alarmed  concerning  both  my  physical  and  mental 
condition.  Perceiving  myself  in  the  glass,  I  recoiled  as  from 
an  image  of  horror.  I  saw  a  man  with  haunted,  hungry  eyes 
gleaming  out  from  under  a  mass  of  disordered  white  hair,  his 
pale,  haggard  face  set  and  stern  as  the  face  of  a  merciless  in- 
quisitor of  old  Spain,  his  dark  cloak  dripping  with  glittering 
raindrops,  his  hands  and  nails  stained  as  though  he  had  dug 
them  into  the  black  earth,  his  boots  heavy  with  mire  and  clay, 
his  whole  aspect  that  of  one  who  had  been  engaged  in  some 
abhorrent  deed,  too  repulsive  to  be  named.  I  stared  at  my 
own  reflection  thus  and  shuddered ;  then  I  laughed  softly 
with  a  sort  of  fierce  enjoyment.  Quickly  I  threw  off  all  my 
soiled  habiliments,  and  locked  them  out  of  sight,  and  arraying 
myself  in  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  I  glanced  at  the  time. 
It  was  half-past  one — already  the  morning  of  my  bridal.  I 
had  been  absent  three  hours  and  a  half.  I  went  into  my 
salon  and  remained  there  writing.  A  few  minutes  after  two 
o'clock  had  struck  the  door  opened  noiselessly,  and  Vincenzo, 
looking  still  very  sleepy,  appeared  with  an  expression  of  in- 
quiring anxiety.  He  smiled  drowsily,  and  seemed  relieved 
to  see  me  sitting  quietly  in  my  accustomed  place  at  the  writ- 
ing-table. I  surveyed  him  with  an  air  of  affected  surprise. 

"  Ebbene,  Vincenzo  !  What  has  become  of  you  all  this 
while  ? " 

"  Eceellenza,"  he  stammered,  "  it  was  the  Lacrima  ;  I  am 
not  used  to  wine  !  I  have  been  asleep." 

I  laughed,  pretended  to  stifle  a  yawn  on  my  own  account, 


and  rose  from  my  easy-chair. 

"  Veramente"  \   3aid,  lightly,  "  so  have   I?  very  nearly 


VENDETTA  !  297 

And  if  I  would  appear  as  a  gay  bridegroom,  it  is  time  I  went 
to  bed.  Buona  notte." 

"Buona  notte,  signor" 

And  we  severally  retired  to  rest,  he  satisfied  that  I  had 
been  in  my  own  room  all  the  evening,  and  I,  thinking  with  a 
savage  joy  at  my  heart  of  what  I  had  prepared  out  there  in 
the  darkness,  with  no  witnesses  of  my  work  save  the  whirling 
wind  and  rain. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

MY  marriage  morning  dawned  bright  and  clear,  though 
the  high  wind  of  the  past  night  still  prevailed  and  sent  the 
white  clouds  scudding  rapidly,  like  ships  running  a  race, 
across  the  blue  fairness  of  the  sky.  The  air  was  strong, 
fresh,  and  exhilarating,  and  the  crowds  that  swarmed  into 
the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  and  the  Toledo,  eager  to  begin  the 
riot  and  fun  of  Giovedi  Grasso,  were  one  and  all  in  the 
highest  good  humor.  As  the  hours  advanced,  many  little 
knots  of  people  hurried  toward  the  cathedral,  anxious,  if 
possible,  to  secure  places  in  or  near  the  Chapel  of  San 
Gennaro,  in  order  to  see  to  advantage  the  brilliant  costumes 
of  the  few  distinguished  persons  who  had  been  invited  to 
witness  my  wedding.  The  ceremony  was  fixed  to  take  place 
at  eleven,  and  at  a  little  before  half  past  ten  I  entered  my 
carriage,  in  company  with  the  Duke  di  Marina  as  best  man, 
and  drove  to  the  scene  of  action.  Clad  in  garments  of  ad- 
mirable cut  and  fit,  with  well-brushed  hair  and  beard,  and 
wearing  a  demeanor  of  skillfully  mingled  gravity  and  gayety, 
I  bore  but  little  resemblance  to  the  haggard,  ferocious  creat- 
ure who  had  faced  me  in  the  mirror  a  few  hours  previously. 

A  strange  and  secret  mirth  too  possessed  me,  a  sort  of 
half-frenzied  merriment  that  threatened  every  now  and  then 
to  break  through  the  mask  of  dignified  composure  it  was 
necessary  for  me  to  wear.  There  were  moments  when  I 
could  have  laughed,  shrieked,  and  sung  with  the  fury  of  a 
drunken  madman.  As  it  was,  I  talked  incessantly ;  my 
conversation  was  flavored  with  bitter  wit  and  pungent  sar- 
casm, and  once  or  twice  my  friend  the  duke  surveyed  me  with 
an  air  of  wondering  inquiry,  as  though  he  thought  my  manr 
ner  forced  or  unnatural.  My  coachman  was  compelled  to 
drive  rather  slowly,  owing  to  the  pressing  throngs  that 
swarmed  at  every  corner  and  through  every  thoroughfare^ 


«98  r END  ETTA  ! 

while  the  yells  of  the  masqueraders,  the  gambols  of  street 
clowns,  the  firing  of  toy  guns,  and  the  sharp  explosion  of 
colored  bladders,  that  were  swung  to  and  fro  and  tossed  in 
the  air  by  the  merry  populace,  startled  my  spirited  horses 
frequently,  and  caused  them  to  leap  and  prance  to  a  some- 
what dangerous  extent,  thus  attracting  more  than  the  custom- 
ary attention  to  my  equipage.  As  it  drew  up  at  last  at  the 
door  of  the  chapel,  I  was  surprised  to  see  what  a  number  of 
spectators  had  collected  there.  There  was  a  positive  crowd 
of  loungers,  beggars,  children,  and  middle-class  persons  of 
all  sorts,  who  beheld  my  arrival  with  the  utmost  interest  and 
excitement. 

In  accordance  with  my  instructions  a  rich  crimson  carpet 
had  been  laid  down  from  the  very  edge  of  the  pavement 
right  into  the  church  as  far  as  the  altar;  a  silken  awning  had 
also  been  erected,  under  which  bloomed  a  miniature  avenue 
of  palms  and  tropical  flowers.  All  eyes  were  turned  upon 
me  curiously  as  I  stepped  from  my  carriage  and  entered  the 
chapel,  side  by  side  with  the  duke,  and  murmurs  of  my  vast 
wealth  and  generosity  were  audibly  whispered  as  I  passed 
along.  One  old  crone,  hideously  ugly,  but  with  large,  dark 
piercing  eyes,  the  fading  lamps  of  a  lost  beauty,  chuckled 
and  mumbled  as  she  craned  her  skinny  throat  forward  to 
observe  me  more  closely.  "  Ay,  ay  !  The  saints  know  he 
need  be  rich  and  generous — -pover 'uomo  to  fill  her  mouth.  A 
little  red  cruel  mouth  always  open,  that  swallows  money  like 
macaroni,  and  laughs  at  the  suffering  poor !  Ah  !  that  is 
bad,  bad  !  He  need  be  rich  to  satisfy  her!" 

The  Duke  di  Marina  caught  these  words  and  glanced 
quickly  at  me,  but  I  affected  not  to  have  heard.  Inside  the 
chapel  there  were  a  great  number  of  people,  but  my  own 
invited  guests,  not  numbering  more  than  twenty  or  thirty, 
were  seated  in  the  space  apportioned  to  them  near  the  altar, 
which  was  divided  from  the  mere  sight-seers  by  means  of  a 
silken  rope  that  crossed  the  aisle.  I  exchanged  greetings 
with  most  of  these  persons,  and  in  return  received  their  con- 
gratulations ;  then  I  walked  with  a  firm  deliberate  step  up 
to  the  high  altar  and  there  waited.  The  magnificent  paint- 
ings on  the  wall  round  me  seemed  endowed  with  mysterious 
life — the  grand  heads  of  saints  and  martyrs  were  turned 
upon  me  as  though  they  demanded — "  Must  thou  do  this 
thing  ?  Hast  thou  no  forgiveness  ?  " 

And  ever  my  stern  answer,  "  Nay  ;  if  hereafter  I  am  tor- 


VENDETTA !  299 

tured  in  eternal  flame  for  all  ages,  yet  now — now  while  I  live, 
I  will  be  avenged  ! " 

A  bleeding  Christ  suspended  on  His  cross  gazed  at  me  re- 
proachfully with  long-enduring  eyes  of  dreadful  anguish — eyes 
that  seemed  to  say,  "  Oh,  erring  man,  that  tormentest  thyself 
with  passing  passions,  shall  not  thine  own  end  approach  speed- 
ily ? — and  what  comfort  wilt  thou  have  in  thy  last  hour?  " 

And  inwardly  I  answered,  "  None  !  No  shred  of  consola- 
tion can  ever  again  be  mine — no  joy,  save  fulfilled  revenge  ! 
And  this  I  will  possess  though  the  heavens  should  crack  and 
the  earth  split  asunder  !  For  once  a  woman's  treachery  shall 
meet  with  punishment — for  once  such  strange  uncommon 
justice  shall  be  done  !  " 

And  my  spirit  wrapped  itself  again  in  somber  meditative 
silence.  The  sunlight  fell  gloriously  through  the  stained  win- 
dows— blue,  gold,  crimson,  and  violet  shafts  of  dazzling  radi- 
ance glittered  in  lustrous  flickering  patterns  on  the  snowy 
whiteness  of  the  marble  altar,  and  slowly,  softly,  majestically, 
as  though  an  angel  stepped  forward,  the  sound  of  music  stole 
on  the  incense-laden  air.  The  unseen  organist  played  a  sub- 
lime voluntary  of  Palestrina's,  and  the  round  harmonious 
notes  came  falling  gently  on  one  another  like  drops  from  a 
fountain  trickling  on  flowers. 

I  thought  of  my  last  wedding-day,  when  I  had  stood  in  this 
very  place,  full  of  hope,  intoxicated  with  love  and  joy,  when 
Guido  Ferrari  had  been  by  my  side,  and  had  drunk  in  for  the 
first  time  the  poisoned  draught  of  temptation  from  the  loveli- 
ness of  my  wife's  face  and  form ;  when  I,  poor  fool !  would 
as  soon  have  thought  that  God  could  lie,  as  that  either  of 
these  whom  I  adored  could  play  me  false.  I  drew  the  wed- 
ding-ring from  my  pocket  and  looked  at  it — it  was  sparklingly 
bright  and  appeared  new.  Yet  it  was  old — it  was  the  very 
same  ring  I  had  drawn  off  mj  wife's  finger  the  day  before ; 
it  had  only  been  burnished  afresh  by  a  skilled  jeweler,  and 
showed  no  more  marks  of  wear  than  if  it  had  been  bought 
that  morning. 

The  great  bell  of  the  cathedral  boomed  out  eleven,  and  as 
the  last  stroke  swung  from  the  tower,  the  chapel  doors  were 
flung  more  widely  open  :  then  came  the  gentle  rustle  of  trail- 
ing robes,  and  turning,  I  beheld  my  wife.  She  approached, 
leaning  lightly  on  the  arm  of  the  old  Chevalier  Mancini,  who, 
true  to  his  creeds  of  gallantry,  had  accepted  with  alacrity  the 
post  of  paternal  protector  to  the  bride  on  this  occasion  ;  and 
I  could  not  well  wonder  at  the  universal  admiration  that  broke 


300  VENDETTA! 

in  suppressed  murmurs  from  all  assembled,  as  this  most  fair 
masterpiece  of  the  devil's  creation  paced  slowly  and  grace- 
fully up  the  aisle.  She  wore  a  dress  of  clinging  white  velvet 
made  with  the  greatest  simplicity — a  lace  veil,  priceless  in 
value  and  fine  as  gossamer,  draped  her  from  head  to  foot — 
the  jewels  I  had  given  her  flashed  about  her  like  scintillating 
points  of  light,  in  her  hair,  at  her  waist,  on  her  breast  and  un- 
covered arms. 

Being  as  she  deemed  herself,  a  widow,  she  had  no  bride- 
maids;  her  train  was  held  up  by  a  handsome  boy  clad  in  the 
purple  and  gold  costume  of  a  sixteenth  century  page — he  was 
the  youngest  son  of  the  Duke  di  Marina.  Two  tiny  girls  of 
five  and  six  years  of  age  went  before,  strewing  white  roses 
and  lilies,  and  stepping  daintily  backward  as  though  in  attend- 
ance on  a  queen ;  they  looked  like  two  fairies  who  had  slipped 
out  of  a  midnight  dream,  in  their  little  loose  gowns  of  gold- 
colored  plush,  with  wreaths  of  meadow  daffodils  on  their  tum- 
bled curly  hair.  They  had  been  well  trained  by  Nina  herself, 
for  on  arrival  at  the  altar  they  stood  demurely,  one  on  each 
side  of  her,  the  pretty  page  occupying  his  place  behind,  and 
still  holding  up  the  end  of  the  velvet  train  with  a  charming 
air  of  hauteur  and  self-complacency. 

The  whole  cortege  was  a  picture  in  its  way,  as  Nina  had 
meant  it  to  be  :  she  was  fond  of  artistic  effects.  She  smiled 
languishingly  upon  me  as  she  reached  the  altar,  and  sunk  on 
her  knees  beside  me  in  prayer.  The  music  swelled  forth  with 
redoubled  grandeur,  the  priests  and  acolytes  appeared,  the 
marriage  service  commenced.  As  I  placed  the  ring  on  the 
book  I  glanced  furtively  at  the  bride  ;  her  fair  head  was  bent 
demurely — she  seemed  absorbed  in  holy  meditations.  The 
priest  having  performed  the  ceremony  of  sprinkling  it  with 
holy  water,  I  took  it  back,  and  set  it  for  the  second  time  on 
my  wife's  soft  white  little  hand — set  it  in  accordance  with  the 
Catholic  ritual,  first  on  the  thumb,  then  on  the  second  finger, 
then  on  the  third,  and  lastly  on  the  fourth,  where  I  left  it  in 
its  old  place,  wondering  as  I  did  so,  and  murmured,  "  fn 
Nomine  Patris  et  Filii  et  Spiritus  Sancti,  Amen!"  whether 
she  recognized  it  as  the  one  she  had  worn  so  long !  But  it 
was  evident  she  did  not ;  her  calm  was  unbroken  by  even  so 
much  as  a  start  or  tremor  ;  she  had  the  self-possession  of  a 
perfectly  satisfied,  beautiful,  vain,  and  utterly  heartless  woman. 

The  actual  ceremony  of  marriage  was  soon  over  ;  then  fol- 
lowed the  Mass,  in  which  we,  the  newly-wedded  pair,  were 
compelled,  in  submission  to  the  rule  of  the  Church,  to  receive 


VENDETTA !  301 

the  Sacrament.  I  shuddered  as  the  venerable  priest  gave  me 
the  Sacred  Host.  What  had  /  to  do  with  the  inward  purity 
and  peace  this  memento  of  Christ  is  supposed  to  leave  in  our 
souls  ?  Methought  the  Crucified  Image  in  the  chapel  regarded 
-nne  afresh  with  those  pained  eyes,  and  said,  "  Even  so  dost 
diou  seal  thine  own  damnation  ! "  Yet  s/ie,  the  true  murder- 
ess, the  arch  liar,  received  the  Sacrament  with  the  face  of  a 
rapt  angel — the  very  priest  himself  seemed  touched  by  those 
upraised,  candid,  glorious  eyes,  the  sweet  lips  so  reverently 
parted,  the  absolute,  reliable  peace  that  rested  on  that  white 
brow,  like  an  aureole  round  the  head  of  a  saint ! 

"  If  /  am  damned,  then  is  she  thrice  damned  !  "  I  said  to 
myself,  recklessly.  "  I  dare  say  hell  is  wide  enough  for  us  to 
live  apart  when  we  get  there." 

Thus  I  consoled  my  conscience,  and  turned  resolutely 
away  from  the  painted  appealing  faces  on  the  wall — the  faces 
that  in  their  various  expressions  of  sorrow,  resignation,  pain, 
and  death  seemed  now  to  be  all  pervaded  by  another  look, 
that  of  astonishment — astonishment,  so  I  fancied,  that  such 
a  man  as  I,  and  such  a  woman  as  she,  should  be  found  in 
the  width  of  the  whole  world,  and  should  be  permitted  to 
kneel  at  God's  altar  without  being  struck  dead  for  their  blas- 
phemy ! 

Ah,  good  saints,  well  may  you  be  astonished  !  Had  you 
lived  in  our  day  you  must  have  endured  worse  martyrdoms 
than  the  boiling  oil  or  the  wrenching  rack  !  What  you  suf- 
fered was  the  mere  physical  pain  of  torn  muscles  and  scorch- 
ing flesh,  pain  that  at  its  utmost  could  not  last  long;  but 
your  souls  were  clothed  with  majesty  and  power,  and  were 
glorious  in  the  light  of  love,  faith,  hope,  and  charity  with  all 
men.  We  have  reversed  the  position  you  occupied  !  We 
have  partly  learned,  and  are  still  learning,  how  10  take  care 
of  our  dearly  beloved  bodies,  how  to  nourisn  and  clothe  them 
and  guard  them  from  cold  and  disease ;  but  our  souls,  good 
saints,  the  souls  that  with  you  were  everything — these  we 
smirch,  burn,  and  rack,  torture  and  destroy — these  we  stamp 
upon  till  we  crush  out  God's  image  therefrom — these  we 
spit  and  jeer  at,  crucify  and  drown  !  There  is  the  difference 
between  you,  the  strong  and  wise  of  a  fruitful  olden  time, 
and  we,  the  miserable,  puny  weaklings  of  a  sterile  modern 
age. 

Had  you,  sweet  St.  Dorothy,  or  fair  child-saint  Agnes, 
lived  in  this  day,  you  would  have  felt  something  sharper 
than  the  executioner's  sword ;  for  being  pure,  you  would 


30*  VENDETTA! 

have  been  dubbed  the  worst  of  women — being  prayerful,  you 
would  have  been  called  hypocrites — being  faithful,  you  would 
have  been  suspected  of  all  vileness — being  loving,  you  would 
have  been  mocked  at  more  bitterly  than  the  soldiers  of  Pon- 
tius Pilate  mocked  Christ ;  but  you  would  have  been  Jree — 
free  to  indulge  your  own  opinions,  for  ours  is  the  age  of  lib- 
erty. Yet  how  much  better  for  you  to  have  died  than  have 
lived  till  now ! 

Absorbed  in  strange,  half-morose,  half-speculative  fancies, 
I  scarcely  heard  the  close  of  the  solemn  service.  I  was 
roused  by  a  delicate  touch  from  my  wife,  and  I  woke,  as  it 
were,  with  a  start,  to  hear  the  sonorous,  crashing  chords  of 
the  wedding-march  in  '*  Lohengrin  "  thundering  through  the 
air.  All  was  over :  my  wife  was  mine  indeed — mine  most 
thoroughly — mine  by  the  exceptionally  close-tied  knot  of  a 
double  marriage — mine  to  do  as  I  would  with  "////  death 
should  us  part:'-  How  long,  I  gravely  mused,  how  long  be- 
fore death  could  come  to  do  us  this  great  service  ?  And 
straightway  I  began  counting,  counting  certain  spaces  of 

time  that  must  elapse  before I  was  still  absorbed  in  this 

mental  arithmetic,  even  while  I  mechanically  offered  my 
arm  to  my  wife  as  we  entered  the  vestry  to  sign  our  names 
in  the  marriage  register.  So  occupied  was  I  in  my  calcula- 
tions that  I  nearly  caught  myself  murmuring  certain  numbers 
aloud.  I  checked  this,  and  recalling  my  thoughts  by  a  strong 
effort,  I  strove  to  appear  interested  and  delighted,  as  I 
walked  down  the  aisle  with  my  beautiful  bride,  through  the 
ranks  of  admiring  and  eager  spectators. 

On  reaching  the  outer  doors  of  the  chapel  several  flower- 
girls  emptied  their  full  and  fragrant  baskets  at  our  feet ;  and 
in  return,  I  bade  one  of  my  servants  distribute  a  bag  of  coins 
I  had  brought  for  the  purpose,  knowing  from  former  experi- 
ence that  it  would  be  needed.  To  tread  across  such  a  heap 
of  flowers  required  some  care,  many  of  the  blossoms  cling- 
ing to  Nina's  velvet  train — we  therefore  moved  forward 
slowly. 

Just  as  we  had  almost  reached  the  carriage,  a  young  girl, 
with  large  laughing  eyes  set  like  flashing  jewels  in  her  soft 
oval  face,  threw  down  in  my  path  a  cluster  of  red  roses.  A 
sudden  fury  of  impotent  passion  possessed  me,  and  I  crushed 
my  heel  instantly  and  savagely  upon  the  crimson  blossoms, 
stamping  upon  them  again  and  again  so  violently  that  my 
wife  raised  her  delicate  eyebrows  in  amazement,  and  the 
pressing  people  who  stood  round  us.  shrugged  tbeir  shoulders, 


VENDETTA !  303 

and  gazed  at  one  another  with  looks  of  utter  bewilderment — 
while  the  girl  who  had  thrown  them  shrunk  back  in  terror, 
her  face  paling  as  she  murmured,  "  Santissima  Madonna  !  mi 
fapaura  /"  I  bit  my  lip  with  vexation,  inwardly  cursing  the 
weakness  of  my  own  behavior.  I  laughed  lightly  in  answer 
to  Nina's  unspoken,  half-alarmed  inquiry. 

"  It  is  nothing — a  mere  fancy  of  mine.  I  hate  red  roses  ! 
They  look  to  me  like  human  blood  in  flower !  " 

She  shuddered  slightly. 

"  What  a  horrible  idea  !  How  can  you  think  of  such  a 
thing  ? " 

I  made  no  response,  but  assisted  her  into  the  carriage 
with  elaborate  care  and  courtesy ;  then  entering  it  myself, 
we  drove  together  back  to  the  hotel,  where  the  wedding 
breakfast  awaited  us. 

This  is  always  a  feast  of  general  uneasiness  and  embar- 
rassment everywhere,  even  in  the  sunny,  pleasure-loving 
south ;  every  one  is  glad  when  it  is  over,  and  when  the 
flowery,  unmeaning  speeches  and  exaggerated  compliments 
are  brought  to  a  fitting  and  happy  conclusion.  Among  my 
assembled  guests,  all  of  whom  belonged  to  the  best  and  most 
distinguished  families  in  Naples,  there  was  a  pervading 
atmosphere  of  undoubted  chilliness  :  the  women  were  dull, 
being  rendered  jealous  of  the  bride's  beauty  and  the  richness 
of  her  white  velvets  and  jewels  ;  the  men  were  constrained, 
and  could  scarcely  force  themselves  into  even  the  appear- 
ance of  cordiality — they  evidently  thought  that,  with  such 
wealth  as  mine,  I  would  have  done  much  better  to  remain  a 
bachelor.  In  truth,  Italians,  and  especially  Neapolitans, 
are  by  no  means  enthusiastic  concerning  the  supposititious 
joys  of  marriage.  They  are  apt  to  shake  their  heads,  and 
to  look  upon  it  as  a  misfortune  rather  than  a  blessing.  "  U 
altar e  e  la  tomba  deir  amore, "  is  a  very  common  saying  with 
us,  and  very  commonly  believed. 

It  was  a  relief  to*  us  all  when  we  rose  from  the  splendidly 
appointed  table,  and  separated  for  a  few  hours.  We  were 
to  meet  again  at  the  ball,  which  was  fixed  to  commence  at 
nine  o'clock  in  the  evening.  The  cream  of  the  event  was  to 
be  tasted  then — the  final  toasting  of  the  bride  was  to  take 
place  then — then  there  would  be  music,  mirth  and  dancing, 
and  all  the  splendor  of  almost  royal  revelry.  I  escorted  my 
wife  with  formal  courtesy  to  a  splendid  apartment  which  had 
been  prepared  for  her,  for  she  had,  as  she  told  me,  many  things 
to  do — as,  for  instance,  to  take  off  her  bridal  robes,  to  study 


304  VENDETTA! 

every  detail  of  her  wondrous  ball  costume  for  the  night,  and 
to  superintend  her  maid  in  the  packing  of  her  trunks  for  the 
next  day's  journey.  The  next  day !  I  smiled  grimly — I 
wondered  how  she  would  enjoy  her  trip  !  Then  I  kissed  her 
hand  with  the  most  profound  respect  and  left  her  to  repose 
— to  refresh  and  prepare  herself  for  the  brilliant  festivity  of 
the  evening. 

Our  marriage  customs  are  not  as  coarse  as  those  of  some 
countries ;  a  bridegroom  in  Italy  thinks  it  scarcely  decent  to 
persecute  his  bride  with  either  his  presence  or  his  caresses 
as  soon  as  the  Church  has  made  her  his.  On  the  contrary,  if 
ardent,  he  restrains  his  ardor — he  forbears  to  intrude,  he 
strives  to  keep  up  the  illusion,  the  rose-colored  light,  or 
rather  mist,  of  love  as  long  as  possible,  and  he  has  a  wise, 
instinctive  dread  of  becoming  overfamiliar ;  well  knowing 
that  nothing  kills  romance  so  swiftly  and  surely  as  the  bare 
blunt  prose  of  close  and  constant  proximity.  And  I,  like 
other  gentlemen  of  my  rank  and  class,  gave  my  twice-wedded 
wife  her  liberty — the  last  hours  of  liberty  she  would  ever 
know.  I  left  her  to  busy  herself  with  the  trifles  she  best 
loved — trifles  of  dress  and  personal  adornment,  for  which 
many  women  barter  away  their  soul's  peace  and  honor,  and 
divest  themselves  of  the  last  shred  of  right  and  honest  prin- 
ciple merely  to  outshine  others  of  their  own  sex,  and  sow 
broadcast  heart-burnings,  petty  envies,  mean  hatreds  and 
contemptible  spites,  where,  if  they  did  but  choose,  there 
might  be  a  widely  different  harvest. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  the  feelings  of  Marie  Stuart  when 
she  arrayed  herself  in  her  best  garments  for  her  execution  : 
it  was  simply  the  heroism  of  supreme  vanity,  the  desire  to 
fascinate  if  possible  the  very  headsman.  One  can  under- 
stand any  beautiful  woman  being  as  brave  as  she.  Harder 
than  death  itself  would  it  have  seemed  to  her  had  she  been 
compelled  to  appear  on  the  scaffold  looking  hideous.  She 
was  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  her  charms  so  long  as  life 
lasted.  I  thought  of  that  sweet-lipped,  luscious-smiling 
queen  as  I  parted  from  my  wife  for  a  few  brief  hours  :  royal 
and  deeply  injured  lady  though  she  was,  she  merited  her 
fate,  for  she  was  treacherous — there  can  be  no  doubt  of  that. 
Yet  most  people  reading  her  history  pity  her — I  know  not 
why.  It  is  strange  that  so  much  of  the  world's  sympathy  is 
wasted  on  false  women  ! 

I  strolled  into  one  of  the  broad  loggie  of  the  hotel,  from 
whence  I  could  see  a  portion  of  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  and 


VENDETTA !  305 

lighting  a  cigar,  I  leisurely  watched  the  frolics  of  the  crowd. 
The  customary  fooling  proper  to  the  day  was  going  on,  and 
no  detail  of  it  seemed  to  pall  on  the  good-natured,  easily 
amused  folks  who  must  have  seen  it  all  so  often  before. 
Much  laughter  was  being  excited  by  the  remarks  of  a  vender 
of  quack  medicines,  who  was  talking  with  extreme  volubility 
to  a  number  of  gayly  dressed  girls  and  fishermen.  I  could 
not  distinguish  his  words,  but  I  judged  he  was  selling  the 
"  elixir  of  love,"  from  his  absurd  amatory  gestures — an  elixir 
compounded,  no  doubt,  of  a  little  harmless  eau  sucrt. 

Flags  tossed  on  the  breeze,  trumpets  b.tiyed,  drums  beat ; 
impromsatores  twanged  their  guitars  and  mandolins  loudly 
to  attract  attention,  and  failing  in  their  efforts,  swore  at  each 
other  with  the  utmost  joviality  and  heartiness  ;  flower-girls 
and  lemonade-sellers  made  the  air  ring  with  their  conflicting 
cries :  now  and  then  a  shower  of  chalky  confetti  flew  out 
from  adjacent  windows,  dusting  with  white  powder  the  coats 
of  the  passers-by ;  clusters  of  flowers  tied  with  favors  of  gay- 
colored  ribbon  were  lavishly  flung  at  the  feet  of  bright-eyed 
peasant  girls,  who  rejected  or  accepted  them  at  pleasure,  with 
light  words  of  badinage  or  plavful  repartee  ;  clowns  danced 
and  tumbled,  dogs  barked,  church  bells  clanged,  and  through 
all  the  waving  width  of  color  and  movement  crept  the  mis- 
erable, shrinking  forms  of  diseased  and  loathly  beggars  whin- 
ing for  a  soldo,  and  clad  in  rags  that  .barely  covered  their 
halting,  withered  limbs. 

It  was  a  scene  to  bewilder  the  brain  and  dazzle  the  eyes, 
and  I  was  just  turning  away  from  it  out  of  sheer  fatigue, 
when  a  sudden  cessation  of  movement  in  the  swaying,  whirl- 
ing crowd,  and  a  slight  hush,  caused  me  to  look  out  once 
more.  I  perceived  the  cause  of  the  momentary  stillness — a 
funeral  cortege  appeared,  moving  at  a  slow  and  solemn  pace; 
as  it  passed  across  the  square,  heads  were  uncovered,  and 
women  crossed  themselves  devoutly.  Like  a  black  shadowy 
snake  it  coiled  through  the  mass  of  shifting  color  and  brill- 
iance— another  moment,  and  it  was  gone.  The  depressing 
effect  of  its  appearance  was  soon  effaced — the  merry  crowds 
resumed  their  thousand  and  one  freaks  of  folly,  their  shriek- 
ing, laughing  and  dancing,  and  all  was  as  before.  Why  not  ? 

The  dead  are  soon  forgotten  ;  none  knew  that  better  than 
I !  Leaning  my  arms  lazily  on  the  edge  of  the  balcony,  I 
finished  smoking  my  cigar.  That  glimpse  of  death  in  the 
midst  oC  life  had  filled  me  with  a  certain  satisfaction. 
Strangely  enough,  my  thoughts  began  to  busy  themselves 

20 


306  VENDETTA! 

with  the  old  modes  of  torture  that  used  to  be  legal,  and  that, 
after  all,  were  not  so  unjust  when  practiced  upon  persons 
professedly  vile.  For  instance,  the  iron  coffin  of  Lissa — that 
ingeniously  contrived  box  in  which  the  criminal  was  bound 
fast  hand  and  foot,  and  then  was  forced  to  watch  the  huge 
lid  descending  slowly,  slowly,  slowly,  half  an  inch  at  a  time, 
till  at  last  its  ponderous  weight  crushed  into  a  flat  and 
mangled  mass  the  writhing  wretch  within,  who  had  for  long 
agonized  hours  watched  death  steadily  approaching.  Sup- 
pose that  /had  such  a  coffin  now  !  I  stopped  my  train  of 
reflection  with  a  slight  shudder.  No,  no  ;  she  whom  I  sought 
to  punish  was  so  lovely,  such  a  softly  colored,  witching, 
gracious  body,  though  tenanted  by  a  wicked  soul — she  should 
keep  her  beauty  !  I  would  not  destroy  that — I  would  be 
satisfied  with  my  plan  as  already  devised. 

I  threw  away  the  end  of  my  smoked-out  cigar  and  entered 
my  own  rooms.  Calling  Vincenzo,  who  was  now  resigned 
and  even  eager  to  go  to  Avellino,  I  gave  him  his  final  in- 
structions, and  placed  in  his  charge  the  iron  cash-box,  which, 
unknown  to  him,  contained  12,000  francs  in  notes  and  gold. 
This  was  the  last  good  action  I  could  do  :  it  was  a  sufficient 
sum  to  set  him  up  as  a  well-to-do  farmer  and  fruit-grower  in 
Avellino  with  Lilla  and  her  little  dowry  combined.  He  also 
carried  a  sealed  letter  to  Signora  Monti,  which  I  told  him 
she  was  not  to  open  till  a  week  had  elapsed ;  this  letter 
explained  the  contents  of  the  box  and  my  wishes  concerning 
it ;  it  also  asked  the  good  woman  to  send  to  the  Villa  Romani 
for  Assunta  and  her  helpless  charge,  poor  old  paralyzed 
Giacomo,  and  to  tend  the  latter  as  well  as  she  could  till  his 
death,  which  I  knew  could  not  be  far  off. 

I  had  thought  of  everything  as  far  as  possible,  and  I  could 
already  foresee  what  a  happy,  peaceful  home  there  would  be 
in  the  little  mountain  town  guarded  by  the  Monte  Vergine. 
Lilla  and  Vincenzo  would  wed,  I  knew ;  Signora  Monti  and 
Assunta  would  console  each  other  with  their  past  memories 
and  in  the  tending  of  Lilla's  children  ;  for  some  little  time, 
perhaps,  they  would  talk  of  me  and  wonder  sorrowfully  where 
I  had  gone  ;  then  gradually  they  would  forget  me,  even  as  I 
desired  to  be  forgotten. 

Yes ;  I  had  done  all  I  could  for  those  who  had  never 
wronged  me.  I  had  acquitted  myself  of  my  debt  to  Vincenzo 
for  his  affection  and  fidelity  ;  the  rest  of  my  way  was  clear. 
I  had  no  more  to  do  save  the  one  thing,  the  one  deed  which 
bad  clamored  so  long  for  accomplishment.  Revenge,  like  a 


VENDETTA  /  307 

beckoning  ghost,  had  led  me  on  step  by  step  for  many  weary 
days  and  months,  which  to  me  had  seemed  cycles  of  suffering ; 
but  now  it  paused — it  faced  me — and  turning  its  blood-red 
eyes  upon  my  soul  said,  "  Strike  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  ball  opened  brilliantly.  The  rooms  were  magnifi- 
cently decorated,  and  the  soft  luster  of  a  thousand  lamps 
shone  on  a  scene  of  splendor  almost  befitting  the  court  of  a 
king.  Some  of  the  stateliest  nobles  in  all  Italy  were  present, 
their  breasts  glittering  with  jeweled  orders  and  ribbons  of 
honor  ;  some  of  the  loveliest  women  to  be  seen  anywhere  in 
the  world  flitted  across  the  polished  floors,  like  poets'  dreams 
of  the  gliding  sylphs  that  haunt  rivers  and  fountains  by 
moonlight. 

But  fairest  where  all  were  fair,  peerless  in  the  exuberance 
of  her  triumphant  vanity,  and  in  the  absolute  faultlessness  of 
her  delicate  charms,  was  my  wife — the  bride  of  the  day,  the 
heroine  of  the  night.  Never  had  she  looked  so  surpassingly 
beautiful,  and  I,  even  I,  felt  my  pulse  beat  quicker,  and  the 
blood  course  more  hotly  through  my  veins,  as  I  beheld  her, 
radiant,  victorious,  and  smiling — a  veritable  queen  of  the 
fairies,  as  dainty  as  a  drop  of  dew,  as  piercing  to  the  eye  as 
a  flash  of  light.  Her  dress  was  some  wonderful  mingling  of 
misty  lace,  with  the  sheen  of  satin  and  glimmering  showers 
of  pearl ;  diamonds  glittered  on  her  bodice  like  sunlight  on 
white  foam ;  the  brigand's  jewels  flashed  gloriously  on  her 
round  white  throat  and  in  her  tiny  shell-like  ears,  while  the 
masses  of  her  gold  hair  were  coiled  to  the  top  of  her  small 
head  and  there  caught  by  a  priceless  circlet  of  rose- 
brilliants — brilliants  that  I  well  remembered — they  had  be- 
longed to  my  mother.  Yet  more  lustrous  than  the  light  of  the 
gems  she  wore  was  the  deep,  ardent  glory  of  her  eyes,  dark 
as  night  and  luminous  as  stars ;  more  delicate  than  the  filmy 
robes  that  draped  her  was  the  pure,  pearl-like  whiteness  of  her 
neck,  which  was  just  sufficiently  displayed  to  be  graceful 
without  suggesting  immodesty. 

For  Italian  women  do  not  uncover  their  bosoms  for  the 
casual  inspection  of  strangers,  as  is  the  custom  of  their  Eng- 
lish and  German  sisters ;  they  know  well  enough  that  any 
lady  venturing  to  wear  a  decollete  dress  would  find  it  impossi; 


308  VEND  ETTA  I 

ble  to  obtain  admittance  to  a  court  ball  at  the  Palazzo  Quirv 
nale.  She  would  be  looked  upon  as  one  of  a  questionable 
class,  and  no  matter  how  high  her  rank  and  station,  would 
run  the  risk  of  ejection  from  the  doors,  as  on  one  occasion 
did  unfortunately  happen  to  an  English  peeress,  who,  ignorant 
of  Italian  customs,  went  to  an  evening  reception  in  Rome  ar- 
rayed in  a  very  low  bodice  with  straps  instead  of  sleeves.  Her 
remonstrances  were  vain  ;  she  was  politely  but  firmly  refused 
admittance,  though  told  she  might  gain  her  point  by  chang- 
ing her  costume,  which  I  believe  she  wisely  did. 

Some  of  the  grandes  dames  present  at  the  ball  that  night 
wore  dresses  the  like  of  which  are  seldom  or  never  seen  out 
of  Italy — robes  sown  with  jewels,  and  thick  with  wondrous 
embroidery,  such  as  have  been  handed  down  from  genera- 
tion to  generation  through  hundreds  of  years.  As  an  example 
of  this,  the  Duchess  of  Marina's  cloth  of  gold  train,  stitched 
with  small  rubies  and  seed-pearls,  had  formerly  belonged  to 
the  family  of  Lorenzo  de  Medici.  Such  garments  as  these, 
when  they  are  part  of  the  property  of  a  great  house,  are  worn 
only  on  particular  occasions,  perhaps  once  in  a  year ;  and 
then  they  are  laid  carefully  by  and  sedulously  protected  from 
dust  and  moths  and  damp,  receiving  as  much  attention  as 
the  priceless  pictures  and  books  of  a  famous  historical  man- 
sion. Nothing  ever  designed  by  any  great  modern  tailor  or 
milliner  can  hope  to  compete  with  the  magnificent  workman- 
ship and  durable  material  of  thefes/a  dresses  that  are  locked 
preciously  away  in  the  old  oaken  coffers  of  the  greatest 
Italian  families — dresses  that  are  beyond  valuation,  because 
of  the  romances  and  tragedies  attached  to  them,  and  which, 
when  worn,  make  all  the  costliest  fripperies  of  to-day  look 
flimsy  and  paltry  beside  them,  like  the  attempts  of  a  servant 
to  dress  as  tastefully  as  her  mistress. 

Such  glitter  of  gold  and  silver,  such  scintillations  from  the 
burning  eyes  of  jewels,  such  cloud-like  wreaths  of  floating 
laces,  such  subtle  odors  of  rare  and  exquisite  perfume,  all 
things  that  most  keenly  prick  and  stimulate  the  senses  were 
round  me  in  fullest  force  this  night — this  one  dazzling, 
supreme  and  terrible  night,  that  was  destined  to  bum  into 
my  brain  like  a  seal  of  scorching  fire.  Yes  ;  till  I  die,  that 
night  will  remain  with  me  as  though  it  were  a  breathing,  sen- 
tient thing;  and  after  death,  who  knows  whether  it  may  not 
uplift  itself  in  some  tangible,  awful  shape,  and  confront  me 
with  its  flashing  mock-luster,  and  the  black  heart  of  its  true 
meaning  in  its  menacing  eyes,  to  take  its  drear  place  by  the 


VENDETTA!  309 

side  of  my  abandoned  soul  through  all  eternity  !  I  remem- 
ber now  how  I  shivered  and  started  out  of  the  bitter  reverie 
into  which  I  had  fallen  at  the  sound  of  my  wife's  low,  laugh- 
ing voice. 

"  Tou  must  dance,  Cesare,"  she  said,  with  a  mischievous 
smile.  "  You  are  forgetting  your  duties.  You  should  open 
the  ball  with  me  ! " 

I  rose  at  once  mechanically. 

"  What  dance  is  it  ?  "  I  asked,  forcing  a  smile.  "  I  feai 
you  will  find  me  but  a  clumsy  partner." 

She  pouted. 

"  Oh,  surely  not !  You  are  not  going  to  disgrace  me — you 
really  must  try  and  dance  properly  just  this  once.  It  will 
look  so  stupid  if  you  make  any  mistake.  The  band  was 
going  to  play  a  quadrille  ;  I  would  not  have  it,  and  told 
them  to  strike  up  the  Hungarian  waltz  instead.  But  I  as- 
sure you  I  shall  never  forgive  you  if  you  waltz  badly — nothing 
looks  so  awkward  and  absurd." 

I  made  no  answer,  but  placed  my  arm  round  her  waist  and 
stood  ready  to  begin.  I  avoided  looking  at  her  as  much  as 
possible,  for  it  was  growing  more  and  more  difficult  with  each 
moment  that  passed  to  hold  the  mastery  over  myself.  I  was 
consumed  between  hate  and  love.  Yes,  love ! — of  an  evil 
kind,  I  own,  and  in  which  there  was  no  shred  of  reverence — 
filled  me  with  a  sort  of  foolish  fury,  which  mingled  itself  with 
another  and  manlier  craving,  namely,  to  proclaim  her  vile- 
ness  then  and  there  before  all  her  titled  and  admiring 
friends,  and  to  leave  her  shamed  in  the  dust  of  scorn,  despised 
and  abandoned.  Yet  I  knew  well  that  were  I  to  speak  out 
— to  declare  my  history  and  hers  before  that  brilliant  crowd 
—I  should  be  accounted  mad,  and  that  for  a  woman  such  as 
she  there  existed  no  shame. 

The  swinging  measure  of  the  slow  Hungarian  waltz,  that 
most  witching  of  dances,  danced  perfectly  only  by  those  of 
the  warm-blooded  southern  temperament,  now  commenced. 
It  was  played  pianissimo,  and  stole  through  the  room  like  the 
fluttering  breath  of  a  soft  sea  wind.  I  had  always  been  an 
excellent  waltzer,  and  my  step  had  fitted  in  with  that  of  Nina 
as  harmoniously  as  the  two  notes  of  a  perfect  chord.  She 
found  it  so  on  this  occasion,  and  glanced  up  with  a  look  of 
gratified  surprise  as  I  bore  her  lightly  with  languorous,  dream- 
like ease  of  movement  through  the  glittering  ranks  of  our 
guests,  who  watched  us  admiringly  as  we  circled  the  room 
tw«>  or  three  times. 


310  VENDETTA! 

Then — all  present  followed  our  lead,  and  in  a  couple  o! 
minutes  the  ball-room  was  like  a  moving  flower-garden  in  full 
bloom,  rich  with  swaying  colors  and  rainbow-like  radiance ; 
while  the  music,  growing  stronger,  and  swelling  out  in  marked 
and  even  time,  echoed  forth  like  the  sound  of  clear-toned  bells 
broken  through  by  the  singing  of  birds.  My  heart  beat  furi- 
ously, my  brain  reeled,  my  senses  swam  as  I  felt  my  wife's 
warm  breath  on  my  cheek  ;  I  clasped  her  waist  more  closely, 
I  held  her  little  gloved  hand  more  firmly.  She  felt  the  double 
pressure,  and,  lifting  her  white  eyelids  fringed  with  those 
long  dark  lashes  that  gave  such  a  sleepy  witchery  to  her  eyes, 
her  lips  parted  in  a  little  smile. 

"  At  last  you  love  me  !  "  she  whispered. 

"  At  last,  at  last,"  I  muttered,  scarce  knowing  what  I  said. 
"Had  I  not  loved  you  at  first,  bellissima,  I  should  not  have 
been  to  you  what  I  am  to-night." 

A  low  ripple  of  laughter  was  her  response. 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  murmured  again,  half  breathlessly,  as  I 
drew  her  with  swifter  and  more  voluptuous  motion  into  the 
vortex  of  the  dancers.  "  You  tried  to  be  cold,  but  I  knew  I 
could  make  you  love  me — yes,  love  me  passionately — and  I 
was  right."  Then  with  an  outburst  of  triumphant  vanity  she 
added,  "  I  believe  you  would  die  for  me  !  " 

I  bent  over  her  more  closely.  My  hot  quick  breath  moved 
the  feathery  gold  of  her  hair. 

"  I  have  died  for  you,"  I  said  ;  "  I  have  killed  my  old  self 
for  your  sake." 

Dancing  still,  encircled  by  my  arms,  and  gliding  along  like 
a  sea-nymph  on  moonlighted  foam,  she  sighed  restlessly. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  mean,  amor  mio"  she  asked,  in  the 
tenderest  tone  in  the  world. 

Ah,  God  !  that  tender  seductive  cadence  of  her  voice,  how 
well  I  knew  it ! — how  often  had  it  lured  away  my  strength, 
as  the  fabled  siren's  song  had  been  wont  to  wreck  the  listen- 
ing mariner. 

"  I  mean  that  you  have  changed  me,  sweetest  ! "  I  whis- 
pered, in  fierce,  hurried  accents.  "  I  have  seemed  old — for 
you  to-night  I  will  be  young  again — for  you  my  chilled  slow 
blood  shall  again  be  hot  and  quick  as  lava — for  you  my  long- 
buried  past  shall  rise  in  all  its  pristine  vigor ;  for  you  I  will 
be  a  lover,  such  as  perhaps  no  woman  ever  had  or  ever  will 
have  again  !  " 

She  heard,  and  nestled  closer  to  me  in  the  dance.  My 
words  pleased  her.  Next  to  her  worship  of  wealth  her  de- 


VENDETTA!  311 

light  was  to  arouse  the  passions  of  men.  She  was  very 
panther-like  in  her  nature — her  first  tendency  was  to  devour, 
her  next  to  gambol  with  any  animal  she  met,  though  her  sleek, 
swift  playfulness  might  mean  death.  She  was  by  no  means 
exceptional  in  this  ;  there  are  many  women  like  her. 

As  the  music  of  the  waltz  grew  slower  and  slower,  drop- 
ping down  to  a  sweet  and  persuasive  conclusion,  I  led  my 
wife  to  \\er  fauteuil,  and  resigned  her  to  the  care  of  a  distin- 
guished Roman  prince  who  was  her  next  partner.  Then,  un- 
observed, I  slipped  out  to  make  inquiries  concerning  Vincenzo. 
He  had  gone  ;  one  of  the  waiters  at  the  hotel,  a  friend  of  his, 
had  accompanied  him  and  seen  him  into  the  train  for  Avellino. 
He  had  looked  in  at  the  ball-room  before  leaving,  and  had 
watched  me  stand  up  to  dance  with  my  wife,  then  "  with 
tears  in  his  eyes  " — so  said  the  vivacious  little  waiter  who  had 
just  returned  from  the  station — he  had  started  without  daring 
to  wish  me  good-bye. 

I  heard  this  information  of  course  with  an  apparent  kindly 
indifference,  but  in  my  heart  I  felt  a  sudden  vacancy,  a  drear, 
strange  loneliness.  With  my  faithful  servant  near  me  I  had 
felt  conscious  of  the  presence  of  a  friend,  for  friend  he  was  in 
his  own  humble,  unobtrusive  fashion  ;  but  now  I  was  alone 
— alone  in  a  loneliness  beyond  all  conceivable  comparison — 
alone  to  do  my  work,  without  prevention  or  detection.  I  felt, 
as  it  were,  isolated  from  humanity,  set  apart  with  my  victim 
on  some  dim  point  of  time,  from  which  the  rest  of  the  world 
receded,  where  the  searching  eye  of  the  Creator  alone  could 
behold  me.  Only  she  and  I  and  God — these  three  were  all 
that  existed  for  me  in  the  universe  ;  between  these  three  must 
justice  be  fulfilled. 

Musingly,  with  downcast  eyes,  I  returned  to  the  ball-room. 
At  the  door  a  young  girl  faced  me — she  was  the  only  daugh- 
ter of  a  great  Neapolitan  house.  Dressed  in  pure  white,  as 
all  such  maidens  are,  with  a  crown  of  snow-drops  on  her 
dusky  hair,  and  her  dimpled  face  lighted  with  laughter,  she 
looked  the  very  embodiment  of  early  spring.  She  addressed 
me  somewhat  timidly,  yet  with  all  a  child's  frankness. 

"  Is  not  this  delightful  ?  I  feel  as  if  I  were  in  fairy-land ! 
Do  you  know  this  is  my  first  ball  ?  " 

I  smiled  wearily. 

"  Ay,  truly  ?     And  you  are  happy  ? " 

"  Oh,  happiness  is  not  the  word — it  is  ecstasy !  How  I 
wish  it  could  last  forever  !  And — is  it  not  strange  ? — I  did 
not  know  I  was  beautiful  till  to-night." 


312  VENDETTA! 

She  said  this  with  perfect  simplicity,  and  a  pleased  smile 
radiated  her  fair  features.  I  glanced  at  her  with  cold  scru- 
tiny. 

"  Ah  !  and  some  one  has  told  you  so." 

She  blushed  and  laughed  a  little  consciously. 

"  Yes  ;  the  great  Prince  de  Majano.  And  he  is  too  noble 
to  say  what  is  not  true,  so  I  must  be  'la  piu  bell  a  donzeUaJ  as 
he  said,  must  I  not  ?  " 

I  touched  the  snow-drops  that  she  wore  in  a  white  cluster 
at  her  breast. 

"  Look  at  your  flowers,  child,"  I  said,  earnestly.  "  See 
how  they  begin  to  droop  in  this  heated  air.  The  poor  things ! 
How  glad  they  would  feel  could  they  again  grow  in  the  cool 
wet  moss  of  the  woodlands,  waving  their  little  bells  to  the 
wholesome,  fresh  wind  !  Would  they  revive  now,  think  you, 
for  your  great  Prince  de  Majano  if  he  told  them  they  were 
fair?  So  with  your  life  and  heart,  little  one — pass  them 
through  the  scorching  fire  of  flattery,  and  their  purity  must 
wither  even  as  these  fragile  blossoms.  And  as  for  beauty — 
are  you  more  beautiful  than  she  1 " 

And  I  pointed  slightly  to  my  wife,  who  was  at  that  moment 
courtesying  to  her  partner  in  the  stately  formality  of  the  first 
quadrille. 

My  young  companion  looked,  and  her  clear  eyes  darkened 
enviously. 

"  Ah,  no,  no !  But  if  I  wore  such  lace  and  satin  and 
pearls,  and  had  such  jewels,  I  might  perhaps  be  more  like 
her  ! " 

I  sighed  bitterly.  The  poison  had  already  entered  this 
child's  soul.  I  spoke  brusquely. 

"  Pray  that  you  may  never  be  like  her,"  I  said,  with  som- 
ber sternness,  and  not  heeding  her  look  of  astonishment. 
"  You  are  young — you  cannot  yet  have  thrown  off  religion. 
Well,  when  you  go  home  to-night,  and  kneel  beside  your  little 
bed,  made  holy  by  the  cross  above  it  and  your  mother's 
blessing — pray — pray  with  all  your  strength  that  you  may 
never  resemble  in  the  smallest  degree  that  exquisite  woman 
yonder  !  So  may  you  be  spared  her  fate." 

I  paused,  for  the  girl's  eyes  were  dilated  in  extreme  wonder 
and  fear.  I  looked  at  her,  and  laughed  abruptly  and 
harshly. 

"  I  forgot,"  I  said  ;  "  the  lady  is  my  wife — I  should  have 
thought  of  that !  I  was  speaking  of — another  whom  you  do 
ijot  know.  Pardon  me  !  when  I  am  fatigued  my  memory 


VENDETTA!  313 

wanders.  Pay  no  attention  to  my  foolish  remarks.  Enjoy 
yourself,  my  child,  but  do  not  believe  all  the  pretty  speeches 
of  the  Prince  de  Majano.  A  rivederd / " 

And  smiling  a  forced  smile  I  left  her,  and  mingled  with 
the  crowd  of  my  guests,  greeting  one  here,  another  there, 
jesting  lightly,  paying  unmeaning  compliments  to  the  women 
who  expected  them,  and  striving  to  distract  my  thoughts 
with  the  senseless  laughter  and  foolish  chatter  of  the  glitter- 
ing cluster  of  society  butterflies,  all  the  while  desperately 
counting  the  tedious  minutes,  and  wondering  whether  my 
patience,  so  long  on  the  rack,  would  last  out  its  destined 
time.  As  I  made  my  way  through  the  brilliant  assemblage, 
Luziano  Salustri,  the  poet,  greeted  me  with  a  grave  smile. 

"  I  have  had  little  time  to  congratulate  you,  conte,"  he 
said,  in  those  mellifluous  accents  of  his  which  were  like  his 
own  improvised  music,  "but  I  assure  you  I  do  so  with  all  my 
heart.  Even  in  my  most  fantastic  dreams  I  have  never 
pictured  a  fairer  heroine  of  a  life's  romance  than  the  lady 
who  is  now  the  Countess  Oliva." 

I  silently  bowed  my  thanks. 

"  I  am  of  a  strange  temperament,  I  suppose,"  he  resumed. 
"  To-night  this  ravishing  scene  of  beauty  and  splendor 
makes  me  sad  at  heart,  I  know  not  why.  It  seems  too  brill- 
iant, too  dazzling.  I  would  as  soon  go  home  and  compose  a 
dirge  as  anything." 

I  laughed  satirically. 

"  Why  not  do  it  ?  "  I  said.  "  You  are  not  the  first  person 
who,  being  present  at  a  marriage,  has,  with  perverse  incon- 
gruity, meditated  on  a  funeral !  " 

A  wistful  look  came  into  his  brilliant  poetic  eyes. 

"  I  have  thought  once  or  twice,"  he  remarked  in  a  low 
tone,  "  of  that  misguided  young  man  Ferrari.  A  pity,  was  it 
not,  that  the  quarrel  occurred  between  you  ?  " 

"  A  pity  indeed  ! "  I  replied,  brusquely.  Then  taking 
him  by  the  arm  I  turned  him  round  so  that  he  faced  my  wife, 
who  was  standing  not  far  off.  "  But  look  at  the — the — angel 
I  have  married  !  Is  she  not  a  fair  cause  for  a  dispute  even 
unto  death  ?  Fy  on  thee,  Luziano  ! — why  think  of  Ferrari  ? 
He  is  not  the  first  man  who  has  been  killed  for  the  sake  of 
a  woman,  nor  will  he  be  the  last !  " 

Salustri  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  was  silent  for  a  minute 
or  two.  Then  he  added  with  his  own  bright  smile : 

"  Still,  amico,  it  would  have  been  much  better  if  it  had 
ended  in  coffee  and  cognac.  Myself,  I  wou!4  rather  shoo* 


314  VENDETTA! 

a  man  with  an  epigram  than  a  leaden  bullet !     By  the  bye, 
do  you  remember  our  talking  of  Cain  and  Abel  that  night  ?  " 

"  Perfectly." 

"  I  have  wondered  since,"  he  continued  half  merrily,  half 
seriously,  "  whether  the  real  cause  of  their  quarrel  has  ever 
been  rightly  told.  I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised  if  one  of 
these  days  some  savant  does  not  discover  a  papyrus  contain- 
ing a  missing  page  of  Holy  Writ,  which  will  ascribe  the  iva 
son  of  the  first  bloodshed  to  a  love  affair.  Perhaps  tin-re 
were  wood  nymphs  in  those  days,  as  we  are  assured  there  were 
giants,  and  some  dainty  Dryad  might  have  driven  the  first  pair 
of  human  brothers  to  desperation  by  her  charms  !  What  say 
you  ? " 

"  It  is  more  than  probable,"  I  answered,  lightly.  "  Make 
a  poem  of  it,  Salustri ;  people  will  say  you  have  improved 
on  the  Bible  !  " 

And  I  left  him  with  a  gay  gesture  to  join  other  groups, 
and  to  take  my  part  in  the  various  dances  which  were  now 
following  quickly  on  one  another.  The  supper  was  fixed  to 
take  place  at  midnight.  At  the  first  opportunity  I  had,  I 
looked  at  the  time.  Quarter  to  eleven  ! — my  heart  beat 
quickly,  the  blood  rushed  to  my  temples  and  surged  noisily 
in  my  ears.  The  hour  I  had  waited  for  so  long  and  so 
eagerly  had  come  !  At  last !  at  last ! 

******  * 

Slowly  and  with  a  hesitating  step  I  approached  my  wife. 
She  was  resting  after  her  exertions  in  the  dance,  and  reclined 
languidly  in  a  low  velvet  chair,  chatting  gayly  with  that  very 
Prince  de  Majano  whose  honeyed  compliments  had  partly 
spoiled  the  budding  sweet  nature  of  the  youngest  girl  in  the 
room.  Apologizing  for  interrupting  the  conversation,  I  low- 
ered my  voice  to  a  persuasive  tenderness  as  I  addressed  her. 

"  Cara  sposina  mia!  permit  me  to  remind  you  of  your 
promise." 

What  a  radiant  look  she  gave  me  ! 

"  I  am  all  impatience  to  fulfill  it !  Tell  me  when — and 
how  ?  " 

"Almost  immediately.  You  know  the  private  passage 
through  which  we  entered  the  hotel  this  morning  on  our  re- 
turn from  church  ?  " 

"  Perfectly." 

"  Well,  meet  me  there  in  twenty  minutes.  We  must  avoid 
being  observed  as  we  pass  out.  But,"  and  I  touched  her 
delicate  dress,  "  you  will  wear  something  warmer  than  this  ? " 


VENDETTA! 


3*5 


"  I  have  a  long  sable  cloak  that  will  do,"  she  replied, 
brightly.  "  We  are  not  going  far  ?  " 

"  No,  not  far." 

"  We  shall  return  in  time  for  supper,  of  course  ?  " 

I  bent  my  head. 

"  Naturally  ! " 

Her  eyes  danced  mirthfully. 

"  How  romantic  it  seems  !  A  moonlight  stroll  with  you 
will  be  charming !  Who  shall  say  you  are  not  a  sentimentali 
bridegroom  ?  Is  there  a  bright  moon  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so." 

"  Cosa  bellissima  /"  and  she  laughed  sweetly.  "  I  look  for- 
ward to  the  trip  !  In  twenty  minutes  then  I  shall  be  with 
you  at  the  place  you  name,  Cesare  ;  in  the  meanwhile  the 
Marchese  Gualdro  claims  me  for  this  mazurka." 

And  she  turned  with  her  bewitching  grace  of  manner  to 
the  marchese,  who  at  that  moment  advanced  with  his  court- 
eous bow  and  fascinating  smile,  and  I  watched  them  as  they 
glided  forward  together  in  the  first  figure  of  the  elegant 
Polish  dance,  in  which  all  lovely  women  look  their  loveliest. 

Then,  checking  the  curse  that  rose  to  my  lips,  I  hurried 
away.  Up  to  my  own  room  I  rushed  with  feverish  haste, 
full  of  impatience  to  be  rid  of  the  disguise  I  had  worn  so 
long. 

Within  a  few  minutes  I  stood  before  my  mirror,  transformed 
into  my  old  self  as  nearly  as  it  was  possible  to  be.  I  could 
not  alter  the  snowy  whiteness  of  my  hair,  but  a  few  deft 
quick  strokes  of  the  razor  soon  divested  me  of  the  beard 
that  had  given  me  so  elderly  an  aspect,  and  nothing  remained 
but  the  mustache  curling  slightly  up  at  the  corners  of  the  lip, 
as  I  had  worn  it  in  past  days.  I  threw  aside  the  dark  glasses, 
and  my  eyes,  densely  brilliant,  and  fringed  with  the  long 
lashes  that  had  always  been  their  distinguishing  feature, 
5hone  with  all  the  luster  of  strong  and  vigorous  youth.  I 
straightened  myself  up  to  my  full  height,  I  doubled  my  fist 
and  felt  it  hard  as  iron;  I  laughed  aloud  in  the  triumphant 
power  of  my  strong  manhood.  I  thought  of  the  old  rag- 
dealing  Jew — "  You  could  kill  anything  easily."  Ay,  so  I 
could ! — even  without  the  aid  of  the  straight  swift  steel  of 
the  Milanese  dagger  which  I  now  drew  from  its  sheath  and 
regarded  steadfastly,  while  I  carefully  felt  the  edge  of  the 
blade  from  hilt  to  point.  Should  I  take  it  with  me  ?  I 
hesitated.  Yes  !  it  might  be  needed.  I  slipped  it  safely 
and  secretly  into  my  vest 


3i6  VENDETTA* 

And  now  the  proofs — the  proofs  !  I  had  them  all  ready  to 
my  hand,  and  gathered  them  quickly  together  ;  first  the  things 
that  had  been  buried  with  me — the  gold  chain  on  which  hung 
the  locket  containing  the  portraits  of  my  wife  and  child,  the 
purse  and  card-case  which  Nina  herself  had  given  me,  the 
crucifix  the  monk  had  laid  on  my  breast  in  the  coffin.  The 
thought  of  that  coffin  moved  me  to  a  stern  smile — that  splin- 
tered, damp,  and  molderingwood  must  speak  for  itself  by  and 
by.  Lastly  I  look  the  letters  sent  me  by  the  Marquis  D'Aven- 
court — the  beautiful,  passionate  love  epistles  she  had  written 
to  Guido  Ferrari  in  Rome. 

Now,  was  that  all  ?  I  thoroughly  searched  both  my  rooms, 
ransacking  every  corner.  I  had  destroyed  everything  that 
could  give  the  smallest  clew  to  my  actions ;  I  left  nothing 
save  furniture  and  small  valuables,  a  respectable  present 
enough  in  their  way,  to  the  landlord  of  the  hotel. 

I  glanced  again  at  myself  in  the  mirror.  Yes  ;  I  was  once 
more  Fabio  Romani,  in  spite  of  my  white  hair ;  no  one  that 
had  ever  known  me  intimately  could  doubt  my  identity.  I  had 
changed  my  evening  dress  for  a  rough,  every-day  suit,  and 
now  over  this  I  threw  my  long  Almaviva  cloak,  which  draped 
me  from  head  to  foot.  I  kept  its  folds  well  up  about  my 
mouth  and  chin,  and  pulled  on  a  soft  slouched  hat,  with  the 
brim  far  down  over  my  eyes.  There  was  nothing  unusual  in 
such  a  costume  ;  it  was  common  enough  to  many  Neapolitans 
who  have  learned  to  dread  the  chill  night  winds  that  blow 
down  from  the  lofty  Apennines  in  early  spring.  Thus  attired, 
too,  I  knew  my  features  would  be  almost  invisible  to  her^ 
more  especially  as  the  place  of  our  rendezvous  was  a  long 
dim  entresol  lighted  only  by  a  single  oil-lamp,  a  passage  that 
led  into  the  garden,  one  that  was  only  used  for  private  pur- 
poses, having  nothing  to  do  with  the  ordinary  modes  of  exit 
and  entrance  to  and  from  the  hotel. 

Into  this  hall  I  now  hurried  with  an  eager  step  ;  it  was  de- 
serted; she  was  not  there.  Impatiently  I  waited — the 
minutes  seemed  hours  !  Sounds  of  music  floated  toward  me 
from  the  distant  ball-room — the  dreamy,  swinging  measure 
of  a  Viennese  waltz.  I  could  almost  hear  the  flying  feet  of 
the  dancers.  I  was  safe  from  all  observation  where  I  stood 
— the  servants  were  busy  preparing  the  grand  marriage  sup- 
per, and  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  hotel  were  absorbed  in 
watching  the  progress  of  the  brilliant  and  exceptional  festiv- 
ities of  the  night. 

Would  she  never  come  ?     Suppose,  after  all,  she  should  es* 


VENDETTA !  317 

cape  me  !  I  trembled  at  the  idea,  then  put  it  from  me  with  a 
smile  at  my  own  folly.  No,  her  punishment  was  just,  and  in 
her  case  the  Fates  were  inflexible.  So  I  thought  and  felt.  I 
paced  up  and  down  feverishly ;  I  could  count  the  thick, 
heavy  throbs  of  my  own  heart.  How  long  the  moments 
seemed  !  Would  she  never  come  ?  Ah  !  at  last !  I  caught 
the  sound  of  a  rustling  robe  and  a  light  step — a  breath  of  del- 
icate fragrance  was  wafted  on  the  air  like  the  odor  of  falling 
orange-blossoms.  I  turned,  and  saw  her  approaching.  With 
swift  grace  she  ran  up  to  me  as  eagerly  as  a  child,  her  heavy 
cloak  of  rich  Russian  sable  falling  back  from  her  shoulders 
and  displaying  her  glittering  dress,  the  dark  fur  of  the  hood 
heightening  by  contrast  the  fairness  of  her  lovely  flushed 
face,  so  that  it  looked  like  the  face  of  one  of  Correggio's  an- 
gels framed  in  ebony  and  velvet.  She  laughed,  and  her  eyes 
flashed  saucily. 

"  Did  I  keep  you  waiting,  caro  mio  ?  "  she  whispered  ;  and 
standing  on  tiptoe  she  kissed  the  hand  with  which  I  held  my 
cloak  muffled  about  me.  "  How  tall  you  look  in  that  Alma- 
viva  !  I  am  so  sorry  I  am  a  little  late,  but  that  last  waltz  was 
so  exquisite  I  could  not  resist  it ;  only  I  wish  you  had  danced 
it  with  me." 

"  You  honor  me  by  the  wish,"  I  said,  keeping  one  arm 
about  her  waist  and  drawing  her  toward  the  door  that  opened 
into  the  garden.  "  Tell  me,  how  did  you  manage  to  leave 
the  ball-room  ? " 

"  Oh,  easily.  I  slipped  away  from  my  partner  at  the  end 
of  the  waltz,  and  told  him  I  should  return  immediately. 
Then  I  ran  upstairs  to  my  room,  got  my  cloak — and  here  I 
am." 

And  she  laughed  again.  She  was  evidently  in  the  highest 
spirits. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  come  with  me  at  all,  mia  bella"  I 
murmured  as  gently  as  I  could  ;  "  it  is  kind  of  you  to  thus 
humor  my  fancy.  Did  you  see  your  maid  ?  does  she  know 
where  you  are  going  ? '' 

"  She  ?  Oh,  no,  she  was  not  in  my  room  at  all.  She  is  a 
great  coquette,  you  know  ;  I  dare  say  .she  is  amusing  herself 
with  the  waiters  in  the  kitchen.  Poor  thing  !  I  hope  she  en- 
joys it." 

I  breathed  freely  ;  we  were  so  far  undiscovered.  No  one 
had  as  yet  noticed  our  departure — no  one  had  the  least  clew 
to  my  intentions.  I  opened  the  door  of  the  passage  noise- 
lessly, and  we  passed  out.  Wrapping  my  wife's  cloak  more 


3lS  VEND  ETTA  I 

closely  about  her  with  much  apparent  tenderness,  I  led  her 
quickly  across  the  garden.  There  was  no  one  in  sight — we 
were  entirely  unobserved.  On  reaching  the  exterior  gate  of 
the  inclosure  I  left  her  for  a  moment,  while  I  summoned  a 
carriage,  a  common  fiacre.  She  expressed  some  surprise  on 
seeing  the  vehicle. 

"  I  thought  we  were  not  going  far  ?  "  she  said. 

I  reassured  her  on  this  point,  telling  her  that  I  only  desired 
to  spare  her  all  possible  fatigue.  Satisfied  with  this  explana- 
tion, she  suffered  me  to  assist  her  into  the  carriage,  i  fol- 
lowed her,  and  calling  to  the  driver,  "  A  la  Villa  Guarda," 
we  rattled  away  over  the  rough  uneven  stones  of  the  back 
streets  of  the  city. 

"  La  Villa  Guarda  !  "  exclaimed  Nina.     "  Where  is  that  ? " 

"  It  is  an  old  house,"  I  replied,  "  situated  near  the  place  I 
spoke  to  you  of,  where  the  jewels  are." 
*  "  Oh  !  " 

And  apparently  contented,  she  nestled  back  in  the  carriage, 
permitting  her  head  to  rest  lightly  on  my  shoulder.  I  drew 
her  closer  to  me,  my  heart  beating  with  a  fierce,  terrible  joy. 

a  Mine — mine  at  last !  "  I  whispered  in  her  ear.  "  Mine 
forever ! " 

She  turned  her  face  upward  and  smiled  victoriously;  her 
cool  fragrant  lips  met  my  burning,  eager  ones  in  a  close, 
passionate  kiss.  Yes,  I  kissed  her  now — why  should  I  not  ? 
She  was  as  much  mine  as  any  purchased  slave,  and  merited 
less  respect  than  a  sultan's  occasional  female  toy.  And  as 
she  chose  to  caress  me,  I  let  her  do  so :  I  allowed  her  to 
think  me  utterly  vanquished  by  the  battery  of  her  charms. 
Yet  whenever  I  caught  an  occasional  glimpse  of  her  face  as 
we  drove  along  in  the  semi-darkness,  I  could  not  help  won- 
dering at  the  supreme  vanity  of  the  woman  !  Her  self-satis- 
faction was  so  complete,  and,  considering  her  approaching 
fate,  so  tragically  absurd  ! 

She  was  entirely  delighted  with  herself,  her  dress,  and  her 
conquest — as  she  thought — of  me.  Who  could  measure  the 
height  of  the  dazzling  visions  she  indulged  in  ;  who  could 
fathom  the  depths  of  her  utter  selfishness  ! 

Seeing  one  like  her,  beautiful,  wealthy,  and  above  all — so- 
ciety knows  I  speak  the  truth — well-dressed,  for  by  the  latter 
virtue  alone  is  a  woman  allowed  any  precedence  nowadays — 
would  not  all  the  less  fortunate  and  lovely  of  her  sex  feel 
somewhat  envious  ?  Ah,  yes  ;  they  would  and  they  do  ;  but 
believe  me,  the  selfish  feminine  thing,  whose  only  sincere 


VENDETTA!  319 

worship  is  offered  at  the  shrines  of  Fashion  and  Folly,  is  of 
all  creatures  the  one  whose  life  is  to  be  despised  and  never 
desired,  and  whose  death  makes  no  blank  even  in  the  circles 
of  her  so-called  best  friends. 

I  knew  well  enough  that  there  was  not  a  soul  in  Naples 
who  was  really  attached  to  my  wife — not  one  who  would  miss 
her,  no,  not  even  a  servant — though  she,  in  her  superb  self- 
conceit,  imagined  herself  to  be  the  adored  beauty  of  the  city. 
Those  who  had  indeed  loved  her  she  had  despised,  neglected, 
and  betrayed.  Musingly  I  looked  down  upon  her  as  she 
rested  back  in  the  carriage,  encircled  by  my  arm,  while  now 
and  then  a  little  sigh  of  absolute  delight  in  herself  broke 
from  her  lips — but  we  spoke  scarcely  at  all.  Hate  has  almost 
as  \ittle  to  say  as  love ! 

The  night  was  persistently  stormy,  though  no  rain  fell — the 
gale  had  increased  in  strength,  and  the  white  moon  only 
occasionally  glared  out  from  the  masses  of  white  and  gray 
cloud  that  rushed  like  flying  armies  across  the  sky,  and  her 
fitful  light  shone  dimly,  as  though  she  were  a  spectral  torch 
glimmering  through  a  forest  of  shadow.  Now  and  again 
bursts  of  music,  or  the  blare  of  d/scordant  trumpets,  reached 
our  ears  from  the  more  distant  thoroughfares  where  the  people 
were  still  celebrating  the  feast  of  Giovedi  Grasso,  or  the 
tinkle  of  passing  mandolins  chimed  in  with  the  rolling 
wheels  of  our  carriage ;  but  in  a  few  moments  we  were  out 
of  reach  f  even  such  sounds  as  these. 

We  passed  the  outer  suburbs  of  the  city  and  were  soon  on 
the  open  road.  The  man  I  had  hired  drove  fast ;  he  knew 
nothing  of  us,  he  was  probably  anxious  to  get  back  quickly 
to  the  crowded  squares  and  illuminated  quarters  where  the 
principal  merriment  of  the  evening  was  going  on,  and  no 
doubt  thought  I  showed  but  a  poor  taste  in  requiring  to  be 
driven  away,  even  for  a  short  distance,  out  of  Naples  on  such 
a  night  of  feasting  and  folly.  He  stopped  at  last ;  the  cas- 
tellated turrets  of  the  villa  I  had  named  were  faintly  visible 
among  the  trees  ;  he  jumped  down  from  his  box  and  came 
to  us. 

"  Shall  I  drive  up  to  the  house  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  as 
though  he  would  rather  be  spared  this  trouble. 

"  No,"  I  answered,  indifferently,  "  you  need  not.  The  dis- 
tance is  short,  we  will  walk." 

And  I  stepped  out  into  the  road  and  paid  him  his  money. 

"  You  seem  anxious  to  get  back  to  the  city,  my  friend,"  J 
said,  half  jocosely. 


320  VENDETTA  J 

"Si,  dawlro /"  he  replied,  with  decision,  "  I  hope  to  get 
many  a  good  fare  from  the  Count  Oliva's  marriage-ball  to- 
night." 

"  Ah  !  he  is  a  rich  fellow,  that  count,"  I  said,  as  I  assisted 
my  wife  to  alight,  keeping  her  cloak  well  muffled  round  her 
so  that  this  common  fellow  should  not  perceive  the  glitter  of 
her  costly  costume ;  "  I  wish  I  were  he  !  " 

The  man  grinned  and  nodded  emphatically.  He  had  no 
suspicion  of  my  identity.  He  took  me,  in  all  probability, 
for  one  of  those  "  gay  gallants  "  so  common  in  Naples,  who, 
on  finding  at  some  public  entertainment  a  "  dama  "  to  their 
taste,  hurry  her  off,  carefully  cloaked  and  hooded,  to  a  mys- 
terious nook  known  only  to  themselves,  where  they  can 
complete  the  romance  of  the  evening  entirely  to  their  own 
satisfaction.  Bidding  me  a  lively  buona  notte,  he  sprung  on 
his  box  again,  jerked  his  horse's  head  violently  round  with  a 
volley  of  oaths,  and  drove  away  at  a  rattling  pace.  Nina, 
standing  on  the  road  beside  me,  looked  after  him  with  a 
bewildered  air. 

"  Could  he  not  have  waited  to  take  us  back  ? "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  I  answered,  brusquely;  "we  shall  return  by  a 
different  route.  Come." 

And  passing  my  arm  round  her,  I  led  her  onward.  She 
shivered  slightly,  and  there  was  a  sound  of  querulous  com- 
plaint in  her  voice  as  she  said  : 

"  Have  we  to  go  much  further,  Cesare  ?  " 

"Three  minutes,  walk  will  bring  us  to  our  destination,"  I 
replied,  briefly,  adding  in  a  softer  tone,  "  Are  you  cold  ? " 

"  A  little,"  and  she  gathered  her  sables  more  closely  about 
her  and  pressed  nearer  to  my  side.  The  capricious  moon 
here  suddenly  leaped  forth  like  the  pale  ghost  of  a  frenzied 
dancer,  standing  tiptoe  on  th«  edge  of  a  precipitous  chasm 
of  black  clouds.  Her  rays,  pallidly  green  and  cold,  fell  full 
on  the  dreary  stretch  of  land  before  us,  touching  up  with 
luminous  distinctness  those  white  mysterious  milestones  of 
the  Campo  Santo  which  mark  where  the  journeys  of  men, 
women,  and  children  began  and  where  they  left  off,  but 
never  explain  in  what  new  direction  they  are  now  traveling. 
My  wife  saw  and  stopped,  trembling  violently. 

"  What  place  is  this  ? "  she  asked,  nervously. 

In  all  her  life  she  had  never  visited  a  cemetery — she  had 
too  great  a  horror  of  death. 

"  It  is  where  I  keep  all  my  treasures,"  I  answered,  and 
my  voice  sounded  strange  and  harsh  in  my  own  ears^  while  I 


VENDETTA  f  321 

tightened  my  grasp  of  her  full,  warm  waist.  "  Come  with 
me,  my  beloved  ! "  and  in  spite  of  my  efforts,  my  tone  was 
one  of  bitter  mockery.  "  With  me  you  need  have  no  fear ! 
Come  ! " 

And  I  led  her  on,  too  powerless  to  resist  my  force,  too 
startled  to  speak — on,  on,  on,  over  the  rank  dewy  grass  and 
unmarked  ancient  graves — on,  till  the  low  frowning  gate  of 
the  house  of  my  dead  ancestors  faced  me — on,  on,  on,  with 
the  strength  of  ten  devils  in  my  arm  as  I  held  her — on,  on, 
on,  to  her  just  doom  ! 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE  moon  had  retreated  behind  a  dense  wall  of  cloud,  and 
the  landscape  was  enveloped  in  semi-darkness.  Reaching 
the  door  of  the  vault,  I  unlocked  it ;  it  opened  instantly,  and 
fell  back  with  a  sudden  clang.  She  whom  I  held  fast  with 
my  iron  grip  shrunk  back,  and  strove  to  release  herself  from 
my  grasp. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ? "  she  demanded,  in  a  faint  tone. 
"  I— I  am  afraid  !  " 

"  Of  "what?  "  I  asked,  endeavoring  to  control  the  passion- 
ate vibrations  of  my  voice  and  to  speak  unconcernedly. 
"  Because  it  is  dark  ?  We  shall  have  a  light  directly — you 
will  see — you — you,"  and  to  my  own  surprise  I  broke  into  a 
loud  and  violent  laugh.  "  You  have  no  cause  to  be  fright- 
ened  !  Come  !  " 

And  I  lifted  her  swiftly  and  easily  over  the  stone  step  of 
the  entrance  and  set  her  safely  inside.  Inside  at  last,  thank 
Heaven !  I  shut  the  great  gate  upon  us  both  and  locked  it ! 
Again  that  strange  undesired  laugh  broke  from  my  lips  in- 
voluntarily, and  the  echoes  of  the  charnel  house  responded 
to  it  with  unearthly  and  ghastly  distinctness.  Nina  clung  to 
me  in  the  dense  gloom. 

"  Why  do  you  laugh  like  that  ?  "  she  cried,  loudly  and  im- 
patiently. "  It  sounds  horrible." 

I  checked  myself  by  a  strong  effort. 

"  Does  it  ?  I  am  sorry — very  sorry  !  I  laugh  because — 
because,  car  a  mia,  our  moonlight  ramble  is  so  pleasant — 
and  amusing — is  it  not  ?  " 

And  I  caught  her  to  my  heart  and  kissed  her  roughly. 

"  Now,"  I  whispered,  "I  will  carry  you — the  steps  are  too 
rough  for  your  little  feet — dearj  dainty,  white  little  feet !  I 

21 


32*  VENDETTA! 

will  carry  you,  you  armful  of  sweetness  ! — yes,  carry  you 
safely  down  into  the  fairy  grotto  where  the  jewels  are — such 
jewels,  and  all  for  you — my  love,  my  wife !  " 

And  I  raised  her  from  the  ground  as  though  she  were  a 
young,  frail  child.  Whether  she  tried  to  resist  me  or  not  I 
cannot  now  remember.  I  bore  her  down  the  moldering 
stairway,  setting  my  foot  on  each  crooked  step  with  the 
firmness  of  one  long  familiar  with  the  place.  But  my  brain 
reeled — rings  of  red  fire  circled  in  the  darkness  before  my 
eyes  ;  every  artery  in  my  body  seemed  strained  to  bursting  ; 
the  pent-up  agony  and  fury  of  my  soul  were  such  that  I 
thought  I  should  go  mad  or  drop  down  dead  ere  I  gained 
the  end  of  my  long  desire.  As  I  descended  I  felt  her  clinging 
to  me ;  her  hands  were  cold  and  clammy  on  my  neck,  as 
though  she  were  chilled  to  the  blood  with  terror.  At  last  I 
reached  the  lowest  step — I  touched  the  floor  of  the  vault.  I 
set  my  precious  burden  down.  Releasing  my  clasp  of  her, 
I  remained  for  a  moment  inactive,  breathing  heavily.  She 
caught  my  arm — she  spoke  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"  What  place  is  this  ?  Where  is  the  light  you  spoke 
of?" 

I  made  no  answer.  I  moved  from  her  side,  and  taking 
matches  from  my  pocket,  I  lighted  up  six  large  candles  which 
I  had  fixed  in  various  corners  of  the  vault  the  night  pre- 
viously. Dazzled  by  the  glare  after  the  intense  darkness,  she 
did  not  at  once  perceive  the  nature  of  the  place  in  which  she 
stood.  I  watched  her,  myself  still  wrapped  in  the  heavy 
cloak  and  hat  that  so  effectually  disguised  my  features. 
What  a  sight  she  was  in  that  abode  of  corruption  !  Lovely, 
delicate,  and  full  of  life,  with  the  shine  of  her  diamonds  gleam- 
ing from  under  the  folds  of  rich  fur  that  shrouded  her,  and 
the  dark  hood  falling  back  as  though  to  display  the  sparkling 
wonder  of  her  gold  hair. 

Suddenly,  and  with  a  violent  shock,  she  realized  the  gloom 
of  her  surroundings — the  yellow  flare  of  the  waxen  torches 
showed  her  the  stone  niches,  the  tattered  palls,  the  decaying 
trophies  of  armor,  the  drear  shapes  of  worm-eaten  coffins,  and 
with  a  shriek  of  horror  she  rushed  to  me  where  I  stood,  as 
immovable  as  a  statue  clad  in  coat  of  mail,  and  throwing  her 
arms  about  me  clung  to  me  in  a  frenzy  of  fear. 

"  Take  me  away,  take  me  away  !  "  she  moaned,  hiding  her 
face  against  my  breast.  "  'Tis  a  vault — oh,  Santissima  Ma- 
donna ! — a  place  for  the  dead  !  Quick — quick  !  take  me  out 
to  the  air — let  us  go  home — home " 


VENDETTA!  323 

She  broke  off  abruptly,  her  alarm  increasing  at  my  utter 
silence.  She  gazed  up  at  me  with  wild  wet  eyes. 

"  Cesare  !  Cesare  !  speak !  What  ails  you  ?  Why  have 
you  brought  me  here  ?  Touch  me — kiss  me  !  say  something — 
anything — only  speak  !  " 

And  her  bosom  heaved  convulsively ;  she  sobbed  with 
terror. 

I  put  her  from  me  with  a  firm  hand.  I  spoke  in  measured 
accents,  tinged  with  some  contempt. 

"  Hush,  I  pray  you  !  This  is  no  place  for  an  hysterical 
scena.  Consider  where  you  are  !  You  have  guessed  aright 
— this  is  a  vault — your  own  mausoleum,  fair  lady  ! — if  I  mis- 
take not — the  burial-place  of  the  Romani  family." 

At  these  words  her  sobs  ceased,  as  though  they  had  been 
frozen  in  her  throat ;  she  stared  at  me  in  speechless  fear  and 
wonder. 

"  Here,"  I  went  on  with  methodical  deliberation,  "  here  lie 
all  the  great  ancestors  of  your  husband's  family,  heroes  and 
martyrs  in  their  day.  Here  will  your  own  fair  flesh  molder. 
Here,"  and  my  voice  grew  deeper  and  more  resolute,  "  here, 
six  months  ago,  your  husband  himself,  Fabio  Romani,  was 
buried." 

She  uttered  no  sound,  but  gazed  at  me  like  some  beautiful 
pagan  goddess  turned  to  stone  by  the  Furies.  Having 
spoken  thus  far  I  was  silent,  watching  the  effect  of  what  I 
had  said,  for  I  sought  to  torture  the  very  nerves  of  her  base 
soul.  At  last  her  dry  lips  parted — her  voice  was  hoarse  and 
indistinct. 

"  You  must  be  mad  !  "  she  said,  with  smothered  anger  and 
horror  in  her  tone. 

Then  seeing  me  still  immovable,  she  advanced  and  caught 
my  hand  half  commandingly,  half  coaxingly.  I  did  not  re- 
sist her. 

"  Come,"  she  implored,  "  come  away  at  once ! "  and  she 
glanced  about  her  with  a  shudder.  "  Let  us  leave  this  hor- 
rible place ;  as  for  the  jewels,  if  you  keep  them  here,  they 
may  stay  here ;  I  would  not  wear  them  for  the  world ! 
Come." 

I  interrupted  her,  holding  her  hand  in  a  fierce  grasp ;  I 
turned  her  abruptly  toward  a  dark  object  lying  on  the  ground 
near  us — my  own  coffin  broken  asunder.  I  drew  her  close 
to  it. 

"  Look !  "  I  said  in  a  thrilling  whisper,  "  what  is  this  ? 
Examine  it  well :  it  is  a  coffin  of  flimsiest  wood,  a  cholera 


324  VENDETTA! 

coffin  !  What  says  this  painted  inscription  ?  Nay,  do  not 
start !  It  bears  your  husband's  name  ;  he  was  buried  in  it 
Then  how  comes  it  to  be  open  ?  Where  is  he  ?  " 

I  felt  her  sway  under  me  ;  a  new  and  overwhelming  terror 
had  taken  instant  possession  of  her,  her  limbs  refused  to  sup- 
port her,  she  sunk  on  her  knees.  Mechanically  and  feebly 
she  repeated  the  words  after  me — 

"  Where  is  he  ?      Where  is  he  1 " 

"  Ay  !  "  and  my  voice  rang  out  through  the  hollow  vault, 
its  passion  restrained  no  more.  "  Where  is  he  ? — the  poor 
fool,  the  miserable,  credulous  dupe,  whose  treacherous  wife 
played  the  courtesan  under  his  very  roof,  while  he  loved  and 
blindly  trusted  her  ?  Where  is  he  ?  Here,  here  ! "  and  I  seized 
her  hands  and  forced  her  up  from  her  kneeling  posture.  "  I 
promised  you  should  see  me  as  I  am  !  I  swore  to  grow  young 
to-night  for  your  sake  ! — Now  I  keep  my  word  !  Look  at  me, 
Nina  ! — look  at  me,  my  twice-wedded  wife  ! — Look  at  me  ! — 
do  you  not  know  your  husband?  " 

And  throwing  my  dark  habiliments  from  me,  I  stood  before 
her  undisguised  !  As  though  some  defacing  disease  had 
swept  over  her  at  my  words  and  look,  so  her  beauty  suddenly 
vanished.  Her  face  became  drawn  and  pinched  and  almost 
old — her  lips  turned  blue,  her  eyes  grew  glazed,  and  strained 
themselves  from  their  sockets  to  stare  at  me  ;  her  very  hands 
looked  thin  and  ghost-like  as  she  raised  them  upward  with 
a  frantic  appealing  gesture  ;  there  was  a  sort  of  gasping 
rattle  in  her  throat  as  she  drew  herself  away  from  me  with  a 
convulsive  gesture  of  aversion,  and  crouched  on  the  floor 
as  though  she  sought  to  sink  through  it  and  thus  avoid  my 
gaze. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no  !  "  she  moaned,  wildly,  "  not  Fabio  ! — no, 
it  cannot  be — Fabio  is  dead — dead  !  And  you  ! — you  arc- 
mad  ! — this  is  some  cruel  jest  of  yours — some  trick  to  frighten 
me!" 

She  broke  off  breathlessly,  and  her  large,  terrified  eyes 
wandered  to  mine  again  with  a  reluctant  and  awful  wonder. 
She  attempted  to  arise  from  her  crouching  position ;  I  ap- 
proached, and  assisted  her  to  do  so  with  ceremonious  polite- 
ness. She  trembled  violently  at  my  touch,  and  slowly 
staggering  to  her  feet,  she  pushed  back  her  hair  from  her 
forehead  and  regarded  me  fixedly  with  a  searching,  anguished 
look,  first  of  doubt,  then  of  dread,  and  lastly  of  convinced 
and  hopeless  certainty,  for  she  suddenly  covered  her  eyes 
with  her  hands  as  though  to  shut  out  some  repulsive  object. 


VENDETTA !  32$ 

and  broke  into  a  low  wailing  sound  like  that  of  one  in  bitter 
physical  pain.  I  laughed  scornfully. 

"  Well,  do  you  know  me  at  last  ?  "  I  cried.  "  Tis  true  I 
have  somewhat  altered.  This  hair  of  mine  was  black,  if  you 
remember — it  is  white  enough  now,  blanched  by  the  horrors 
of  a  living  death  such  as  you  cannot  imagine,  but  which," 
and  I  spoke  more  slowly  and  impressively,  "  you  may  pos- 
sibly experience  ere  long.  Yet  in  spite  of  this  change  I 
think  you  know  me  !  That  is  well.  I  am  glad  your  memory 
serves  you  thus  far  !  " 

A  low  sound  that  was  half  a  sob  and  half  a  cry  broke  from 
her. 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  "  she  muttered,  again,  incoherently — "  it 
cannot  be!  It  must  be  false — it  is  some  vile  plot — it  can- 
not be  true  !  True  !  Oh,  Heaven  !  it  would  be  too  cruel,  too 
horrible ! " 

I  strode  up  to  her.  I  drew  her  hands  away  from  her  eyes 
and  grasped  them  tightly  in  my  own. 

"  Hear  me  ! "  I  said,  in  clear,  decisive  tones.  "  I  have 
kept  silence,  God  knows,  with  a  long  patience,  but  now — 
now  I  can  speak.  Yes !  you  thought  me  dead — you  had 
every  reason  to  think  so,  you  had  every  proof  to  believe  so. 
How  happy  my  supposed  death  made  you  !  What  a  relief 
it  was  to  you ! — what  an  obstruction  removed  from  your 
path  !  But — I  was  buried  alive  !  "  She  uttered  a  faint 
shriek  of  terror,  and  looking  wildly  about  her,  strove  to 
wrench  her  hands  from  my  clasp.  I  held  them  more  closely. 
"  Ay,  think  of  it,  wife  of  mine  ! — you  to  whom  luxury  has 
been  second  nature,  think  of  this  poor  body  straightened  in 
a  helpless  swoon,  packed  and  pressed  into  yonder  coffin  and 
nailed  up  fast,  shut  out  from  the  blessed  light  and  air,  as 
one  would  have  thought,  forever  !  Who  could  have  dreamed 
that  life  still  lingered  in  me — life  still  strong  enough  to  split 
asunder  the  boards  that  inclosed  me,  and  leave  them 
shattered,  as  you  see  them  now !  " 

She  shuddered  and  glanced  with  aversion  toward  the 
broken  coffin,  and  again  tried  to  loosen  her  hands  from 
mine.  She  looked  at  me  with  a  burning  anger  in  her  face. 

"  Let  me  go  !  "  she  panted.  "  Madman  !  liar  ! — let  me 
go !  " 

I  released  her  instantly  and  stood  erect,  regarding  her 
fixedly. 

"  I  am  no  madman,"  I  said,  composedly ;  "  and  you  know 
as  well  as  I  do  that  I  speak  the  truth.  When  I  escaped 


326  VENDETTA! 

from  that  coffin  I  found  myself  a  prisoner  in  this  very  vault 
— this  house  of  my  perished  ancestry,  where,  if  old  legends 
could  be  believed,  the  very  bones  that  are  stored  up  here 
would  start  and  recoil  from  your  presence  as  pollution  to  the 
dead,  whose  creed  was  honor" 

The  sound  of  her  sobbing  breath  ceased  suddenly ;  she 
fixed  her  eyes  on  mine  ;  they  glittered  defiantly. 

"  For  one  long  awful  night,"  I  resumed,  "  I  suffered  here. 
I  might  have  starved — or  perished  of  thirst.  I  thought  no 
agony  could  surpass  what  I  endured  !  But  I  was  mistaken  : 
there  was  a  sharper  torment  in  store  for  me.  I  discovered 
a  way  of  escape ;  with  grateful  tears  I  thanked  God  for  my 
rescue,  for  liberty,  for  life  !  Oh,  what  a  fool  was  I  !  How 
could  I  dream  that  my  death  was  so  desired  ! — how  could  I 
know  that  I  had  better  far  have  died  than  have  returned  to 
such  a  home  !  " 

Her  lips  moved,  but  she  uttered  no  word  ;  she  shivered 
as  though  with  intense  cold.  I  drew  nearer  to  her. 

"  Perhaps  you  doubt  my  story  ?  " 

She  made  no  answer.  A  rapid  impulse  of  fury  possessed 
me. 

"  Speak  !  "  I  cried,  fiercely,  "  or  by  the  God  above  us  I  will 
make  you !  Speak  !  "  and  I  drew  the  dagger  I  carried  from 
my  vest.  "  Speak  the  truth  for  once — 'twill  be  difficult  to 
you  who  love  lies — but  this  time  I  must  be  answered  !  Tell 
me,  do  you  know  me  ?  Do  you  or  do  you  not  believe  that  I 
am  indeed  your  husband — your  living  husband,  Fabio 
Romani  ? " 

She  gasped  for  breath.  The  sight  of  my  infuriated  figure 
— the  glitter  of  the  naked  steel  before  her  eyes — the  sudden- 
ness of  my  action,  the  horror  of  her  position,  all  terrified  her 
into  speech.  She  flung  herself  down  before  me  in  an  attitude 
of  abject  entreaty.  She  found  her  voice  at  last. 

"  Mercy  !  mercy  !  '*  she  cried.  "  Oh,  God  !  you  will  not 
kill  me  ?  Anything — anything  but  death ;  I  am  too  young  to 
die  !  Yes,  yes ;  I  know  you  are  Fabio — Fabio,  my  husband, 
Fabio,  whom  I  thought  dead — Fabio — oh  !  "  and  she  sobbed 
convulsively.  "  You  said  you  loved  me  to-day — when  you 
married  me  !  Why  did  you  marry  me  ?  I  was  your  wife 
already — why — why  ?  Oh,  horrible,  horrible  !  I  see — I 
understand  it  all  now  !  But  do  not,  do  not  kill  me,  Fabio — I 
am  afraid  to  die  !  " 

And  she  hid  her  face  at  my  feet  and  groveled  there.  As 
quickly  calmed  as  I  had  been  suddenly  furious,  I  put  back 


VENDETTA  I  327 

the  dagger.  I  smoothed  my  voice  and  spoke  with  mocking 
courtesy. 

"  Pray  do  not  alarm  yourself,"  I  said,  coolly.  "  I  have 
not  the  slightest  intention  of  killing  you !  I  am  no  vulgar 
murderer,  yielding  to  mere  brute  instincts.  You  forget :  a 
Neapolitan  has  hot  passions,  but  he  also  has  finesse,  especially 
in  matters  of  vengeance.  I  brought  you  here  to  tell  you  of 
my  existence,  and  to  confront  you  with  the  proofs  of  it. 
Rise,  I  beg  of  you,  we  have  plenty  of  time  to  talk ;  with  a 
little  patience  I  shall  make  things  clear  to  you — rise !  " 

She  obeyed  me,  lifting  herself  up  reluctantly  with  a  long, 
shuddering  sigh.  As  she  stoodjupright  I  laughed  contemptu- 
ously. 

"  What !  no  love  words  for  me  ?  "  I  cried,  "  not  one  kiss, 
not  one  smile,  not  one  word  of  welcome  ?  You  say  you  know 
me — well ! — are  you  not  glad  to  see  your  husband  ? — you,  who 
were  such  an  inconsolable  widow  ?  " 

A  strange  quiver  passed  over  her  face — she  wrung  her 
hands  together  hard,  but  she  said  no  word. 

"  Listen  !  "  I  said,  "  there  is  more  to  tell.  When  I  broke 
loose  from  the  grasp  of  death,  when  I  came  home — I  found  my 
vacant  post  already  occupied.  I  arrived  in  time  to  witness  a 
very  pretty  pastoral  play.  The  scene  was  the  ilex  avenue— 
the  actors,  you,  my  wife,  and  Guido,  my  friend  !  " 

She  raised  her  head  and  uttered  a  low  exclamation  of  fear. 
I  advanced  a  step  or  two  and  spoke  more  rapidly. 

"  You  hear  ?  There  was  moonlight,  and  the  song  of  night- 
ingales— yes  ;  the  stage  effects  were  perfect !  /  watched  the 
progress  of  the  comedy — with  what  emotions  you  may  im- 
agine. I  learned  much  that  was  news  to  me.  I  became 
aware  that  for  a  lady  of  your  large  heart  and  sensitive  feelings 
<me  husband  was  not  sufficient " — here  I  laid  my  hand  on  her 
shoulder  and  gazed  into  her  face,  while  her  eyes,  dilated  with 
terror,  stared  hopelessly  up  to  mine — "  and  that  within  three 
little  months  of  your  marriage  to  me  you  provided  yourself 
with  another.  Nay,  no  denial  can  serve  you  !  Guido  Ferrari 
was  husband  to  you  in  all  things  but  the  name.  I  mastered 
the  situation — I  rose  to  the  emergency.  Trick  for  trick, 
comedy  for  comedy !  You  know  the  rest.  As  the  Count 
Oliva  you  can  not  deny  that  I  acted  well !  For  the  second 
time  I  courted  you,  but  not  half  so  eagerly  as  you  courted 
me!  For  the  second  time  I  have  married  you!  Who  shall 
deny  that  you  are  most  thoroughly  mine — mine,  body  and 
soul,  till  death  do  us  part ! " 


328  VENDETTA  t 

And  I  loosened  my  grasp  of  her :  she  writhed  from  me  like 
some  glittering  wounded  serpent.  The  tears  had  dried  on  her 
cheeks,  her  features  were  rigid  and  wax-like  as  the  features 
of  a  corpse ;  only  her  dark  eyes  shone,  and  these  seemed  pre- 
ternaturally  large,  and  gleamed  with  an  evil  luster.  I  moved 
a  little  away,  and  turning  my  own  coffin  on  its  side,  I  sat  down 
upon  it  as  indifferently  as  though  it  were  an  easy-chair  in  a 
drawing-room.  Glancing  at  her  then,  I  saw  a  wavering  light 
upon  her  face.  Some  idea  had  entered  into  her  mind.  She 
moved  gradually  from  the  wall  where  she  leaned,  watching 
me  fearfully  as  she  did  so.  I  made  no  attempt  to  stir  from 
the  seat  I  occupied. 

Slowly,  slowly,  still  keeping  her  eyes  on  me,  she  glided  step 
by  step  onward  and  passed  me — then  with  a  sudden  rush  she 
reached  the  stairway  and  bounded  up  it  with  the  startled 
haste  of  a  hunted  deer.  I  smiled  to  myself.  I  heard  her 
shaking  the  iron  gateway  to  and  fro  with  all  her  feeble 
strength  ;  she  called  aloud  for  help  several  times.  Only  the 
sullen  echoes  of  the  vault  answered  her,  and  the  wild  whistle 
of  the  wind  as  it  surged  through  the  trees  of  the  cemetery. 
At  last  she  screamed  furiously,  as  a  savage  cat  might  scream 
—the  rustle  of  her  silken  robes  came  swiftly  sweeping  down 
the  steps,  and  with  a  spring  like  that  of  a  young  tigress  she 
jonfronted  me,  the  blood  now  burning  wrathfully  in  her  face, 
and  transforming  it  back  to  something  of  its  old  beauty. 

"  Unlock  that  door ! "  she  cried,  with  a  furious  stamp  of 
her  foot.  "  Assassin  !  traitor !  I  hate  you  !  I  always  hated 
you  !  Unlock  the  door,  I  tell  you  !  You  dare  not  disobey 
me  ;  you  have  no  right  to  murder  me  !  " 

I  looked  at  her  coldly  ;  the  torrent  of  her  words  was  sud- 
denly checked,  something  in  my  expression  daunted  her; 
she  trembled  and  shrunk  back. 

"  No  right !  "  I  said,  mockingly.  "  I  differ  from  you  !  A 
man  once  married  has  some  right  over  his  wife,  but  a  man 
twice  married  to  the  same  woman  has  surely  gained  a  double 
authority  !  And  as  for  *  dare  not  I '  there  is  nothing  I  *  dare 
not '  do  to-night." 

And  with  that  I  rose  and  approached  her.  A  torrent  of 
passionate  indignation  boiled  in  my  veins  ;  I  seized  her  two 
white  arms  and  held  her  fast. 

•"  You  talk  of  murder  !  "  I  muttered,  fiercely.  "  You — you 
who  have  remorselessly  murdered  two  men  !  Their  blood  be 
on  your  head  !  For  though  I  live,  I  am  but  the  moving  corpse 
of  the  man  I  was — hope,  faith,  happiness,  peace— all  things 


VENDETTA!  329 

good  and  great  in  me  have  been  slain  by  you.  And  as  for 
&uido " 

She  interrupted  me  with  a  wild  sobbing  cry. 

"  He  loved  me  !     Guido  loved  me ! " 

"Ay,  he  loved  you,  oh,  devil  in  the  shape  of  a  woman  !  he 
loved  you  !  Come  here,  here  ! "  and  in  a  fury  I  could  not 
restrain  I  dragged  her,  almost  lifted  her  along  to  one  corner 
of  the  vault,  where  the  light  of  the  torches  scarcely  illumined 
the  darkness,  and  there  I  pointed  upward.  "  Above  our 
very  heads — to  the  left  of  where  we  stand — the  brave  strong 
body  of  your  lover  lies,  festering  slowly  in  the  wet  mould, 
thanks  to  you  ! — the  fair,  gallant  beauty  of  it  all  marred  by 
the  red-mouthed  worms — the  thick  curls  of  hair  combed 
through  by  the  crawling  feet  of  vile  insects — the  poor  frail 
heart  pierced  by  a  gaping  wound " 

"  You  killed  him  ;  you — you  are  to  blame,"  she  moaned, 
restlessly,  striving  to  turn  her  face  away  from  me. 

"/killed  him?  No,  no,  not  I,  but  you  I  He  died  when 
he  learned  your  treachery — when  he  knew  you  were  false  to 
him  for  the  sake  of  wedding  a  supposed  wealthy  stranger — 
my  pistol-shot  but  put  him  out  of  torment.  You  !  you  were 
glad  of  his  death — as  glad  as  when  you  thought  of  mine  ! 
You  talk  of  murder  !  Oh,  vilest  among  women  !  if  I  could 
murder  you  twenty  times  over,  what  then  ?  Your  sins  out- 
weigh all  punishment !  " 

And  I  flung  her  from  me  with  a  gesture  of  contempt  and 
loathing.  This  time  my  words  had  struck  home.  She  cow- 
ered before  me  in  horror — her  sables  wrere  loosened  and 
scarcely  protected  her,  the  richness  of  her  ball  costume  was 
fully  displayed,  and  the  diamonds  on  her  bosom  heaved 
restlessly  up  and  down  as  she  panted  with  excitement,  rage 
and  fear. 

"  I  do  not  see,"  she  muttered,  sullenly,  "  why  you  should 
blame  me  !  I  am  no  worse  than  other  women  !  " 

"  No  worse  !  no  worse  !  "  I  cried.  "  Shame,  shame  upon 
you  that  thus  outrage  your  sex  !  Learn  for  once  what  men 
think  of  unfaithful  wives — for  maybe  you  are  ignorant.  The 
novels  you  have  read  in  your  luxurious,  idle  hours  have  per- 
haps told  you  that  infidelity  is  no  sin — merely  a  little  social 
error  easily  condoned,  or  set  right  by  the  divorce  court. 
Yes  !  modern  books  and  modern  plays  teach  you  so  :  in  them 
the  world  swerves  upside  down,  and  vice  looks  like  virtue. 
But  /will  tell  you  what  may  seem  to  you  a  strange  and  won- 
derful thing  !  There  is  no  mean  animal,  no  loathsome  object, 


330  VENDETTA ! 

no  horrible  deformity  of  nature  so  utterly  repulsive  to  a  true 
nun  as  a  faithless  wife  !  The  cowardly  murderer  who  lies  in 
wait  for  his  victim  behind  some  dark  door,  and  stabs  him  in 
the  back  as  he  passes  by  unarmed — he,  I  say,  is  more  to  be 
pardoned  than  the  woman  who  takes  a  husband's  name, 
honor,  position,  and  reputation  among  his  fellows,  and  shel- 
tering herself  with  these,  passes  her  beauty  promiscuously 
about  like  some  coarse  article  of  commerce,  that  goes  to  the 
highest  bidder !  Ay,  let  your  French  novels  and  books  of 
their  type  say  what  they  will — infidelity  is  a  crime,  a  low, 
brutal  crime,  as  bad  if  not  worse  than  murder,  and  deserves 
as  stern  a  sentence  !  " 

A  sudden  spirit  of  defiant  insolence  possessed  her.  She 
drew  herself  erect,  and  her  level  brows  knitted  in  a  dark  frown. 

"  Sentence  !  "  she  exclaimed,  imperiously.  "  How  dare 
you  judge  me  !  What  harm  have  I  done  ?  If  I  am  beauti- 
ful, is  that  my  fault  ?  If  men  are  fools,  can  /help  it  ?  You 
loved  me — Guido  loved  me — could  /  prevent  it  ?  I  cared 
nothing  for  him,  and  less  for  you  !  " 

"  I  know  it,"  I  said,  bitterly.  "  Love  was  never  part  of 
your  nature  !  Our  lives  were  but  cups  of  wine  for  your  false 
lips  to  drain  ;  once  the  flavor  pleased  you,  but  now — now, 
think  you  not  the  dregs  taste  somewhat  cold  ?  " 

She  shrunk  at  my  glance — her  head  drooped,  and  drawing 
near  a  projecting  stone  in  the  wall,  she  sat  down  upon  it, 
pressing  one  hand  to  her  heart. 

"  No  heart,  no  conscience,  no  memory  !  "  I  cried.  "  Great 
Heaven  !  that  such  a  thing  should  live  and  call  itself  woman  ! 
The  lowest  beast  of  the  field  has  more  compassion  for  its 
kind  !  Listen  :  before  Guido  died  he  knew  me,  even  as  my 
child,  neglected  by  you,  in  her  last  agony  knew  her  father. 
She  being  innocent,  passed  in  peace ;  but  he  ! — imagine  if 
you  can,  the  wrenching  torture  in  which  he  perished,  knowing 
all !  How  his  parted  spirit  must  curse  you !  " 

She  raised  her  hands  to  her  head  and  pushed  away  the  light 
curls  from  her  brow.  There  was  a  starving,  hunted,  almost 
furious  look  in  her  eyes,  but  she  fixed  them  steadily  on  me. 

"  See,"  I  went  on — "  here  are  more  proofs  of  the  truth  of 
my  story.  These  things  were  buried  with  me,"  and  I  threw 
into  her  lap  as  she  sat  before  me  the  locket  and  chain,  the 
card-case  and  purse  she  herself  had  given  me.  "  You  will  no 
doubt  recognize  them.  This  " — and  I  showed  her  the  monk's 
crucifix — "  this  was  laid  on  my  breast  in  the  coffin.  It  may 
be  useful  to  you — you  can  pray  to  it  presently  !  " 


VENDETTA!  331 

She  interrupted  me  with  a  gesture  of  her  hand  ;  she  spoke 
as  though  in  a  dream. 

"  You  escaped  from  this  vault  ?  "  she  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
looking  from  right  to  left  with  searching  eagerness.  "  Tell 
me  how — and — where  ?  " 

I  laughed  scornfully,  guessing  her  thoughts. 

"  It  matters  little,"  I  replied.  "  The  passage  I  discovered 
is  now  closed  and  fast  cemented.  I  have  seen  to  that  my- 
self !  No  other  living  creature  left  here  can  escape  as  I  did. 
Escape  is  impossible." 

A  stifled  cry  broke  from  her  ;  she  threw  herself  at  my  feet, 
letting  the  things  I  had  given  her  as  proofs  of  my  existence 
fall  heedlessly  on  the  floor. 

"  Fabio  !  Fabio  !  "  she  cried,  "  save  me,  pity  me  !  Take 
me  out  to  the  light — the  air — let  me  live  \  Drag  me  through 
Naples — let  all  the  crowd  see  me  dishonored,  brand  me  with 
the  worst  of  names,  make  of  me  a  common  outcast — only  let 
me  feel  the  warm  life  throbbing  in  my  veins  !  I  will  do  any- 
thing, say  anything,  be  anything — only  let  me  live !  I  loath 
the  cold  and  darkness — the  horrible — horrible  ways  of 
death  !  "  She  shuddered  violently  and  clung  to  me  afresh. 
"  I  am  so  young !  and  after  all,  am  I  so  vile  ?  There  are 
women  who  count  their  lovers  by  the  score,  and  yet  they  are 
not  blamed ;  why  should  I  suffer  more  than  they  ? " 

"  Why,  why  ?  "  I  echoed,  fiercely.  "  Because  for  once  a 
husband  takes  the  law  into  his  own  hands — for  once  a  wronged 
man  insists  on  justice — for  once  he  dares  to  punish  the  treach- 
ery that  blackens  his  honor  !  Were  there  more  like  me  there 
would  be  fewer  like  you  !  A  score  of  lovers  !  'Tis  not  your 
fault  that  you  had  but  one  !  I  have  something  else  to  say 
which  concerns  you.  Not  content  with  fooling  two  men,  you 
tried  the  same  amusement  on  a  supposed  third.  Ay,  you 
wince  at  that !  While  you  thought  me  to  be  the  Count  Oliva 
— while  you  were  betrothed  to  me  in  that  character,  you  wrote 
to  Guido  Ferrari  in  Rome.  Very  charming  letters !  here  they 
are,"  and  I  flung  them  down  to  her.  "  I  have  no  further  use 
for  them — I  have  read  them  all !  " 

She  let  them  lie  where  they  fell ;  she  still  crouched  at  my 
feet,  and  her  restless  movements  loosened  her  cloak  so  far 
that  it  hung  back  from  her  shoulders,  showing  the  jewels  that 
flashed  on  her  white  neck  and  arms  like  points  of  living  light. 
I  touched  the  circlet  of  diamonds  in  her  hair — I  snatched  it 
from  her. 

"  These  are  mine ! "  I  cried,  "  as  much  as  this  signet  J 


332  VENDETTA  I 

wear,  which  was  your  love-gift  to  Guido  Ferrari,  and  which 
you  afterward  returned  to  me,  its  rightful  owner.  These  are 
my  mother's  gems — how  dared  you  wear  them  ?  The  stones 
/gave  you  are  your  only  fitting  ornaments — they  are  stolen 
goods,  filched  by  the  blood-stained  hands  of  the  blackest 
brigand  in  Sicily  !  I  promised  you  more  like  them  ;  behold- 
them  ! " — and  I  threw  open  the  coffin-shaped  chest  contain- 
ing the  remainder  of  Carmelo  Neri's  spoils.  It  occupied  a 
conspicuous  position  near  where  I  stood,  and  I  had  myself 
arranged  its  interior  so  that  the  gold  ornaments  and  precious 
stones  should  be  the  first  things  to  meet  her  eyes.  "  You  see 
now,"  I  went  on,  '*  where  the  wealth  of  the  supposed  Count 
Oliva  came  from.  I  found  this  treasure  hidden  here  on  the 
night  of  my  burial — little  did  I  think  then  what  dire  need  I 
should  have  for  its  usage  !  It  has  served  me  well ;  it  is  not 
yet  exhausted  ;  the  remainder  is  at  your  service  1 " 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

AT  these  words  she  rose  from  her  knees  and  stood  upright. 
Making  an  effort  to  fasten  her  cloak  with  her  trembling  hands, 
she  moved  hesitatingly  toward  the  brigand's  coffin  and  leaned 
over  it,  looking  in  with  a  faint  light  of  hope  as  well  as  curiosity 
in  her  haggard  face.  I  watched  her  in  vague  wonderment — 
she  had  grown  old  so  suddenly.  The  peach-like  bloom  and 
delicacy  of  her  flesh  had  altogether  disappeared — her  skin 
appeared  drawn  and  dry  as  though  parched  in  tropical  heat. 
Her  hair  was  disordered,  and  fell  about  her  in  clustering 
showers  of  gold — that,  and  her  eyes,  were  the  only  signs  of 
youth  about  her.  A  sudden  wave  of  compassion  swept  over 
my  soul. 

"  Oh  wife  !  "  I  exclaimed — "  wife  that  I  so  ardently  loved 
— wife  that  I  would  have  died  for  indeed,  had  you  bade 
me  ! — why  did  you  betray  me  ?  I  thought  you  truth  itself — 
ay !  and  if  you  had  but  waited  for  one  day  after  you  thought 
me  dead,  and  then  chosen  Guido  for  your  lover,  I  tell  you, 
so  large  was  my  tenderness,  I  would  have  pardoned  you  ! 
Though  risen  from  the  grave,  I  would  have  gone  away  and 
made  no  sign — yes  ;  if  you  had  waited — if  you  had  wept  for 
me  ever  so  little  !  But  when  your  own  lips  confessed  your 
crime — when  I  knew  that  within  three  months  of  our  mar- 
riage-day you  had  fooled  me — when  I  learned  that  my  love, 


VENDETTA!  333 

my  name,  my  position,  my  honor,  were  used  as  mere  screens 
to  shelter  your  intrigue  with  the  man  I  called  friend  ! — God  ! 
what  creature  of  mortal  flesh  and  blood  could  forgive  such 
treachery  ?  I  am  no  more  than  others — but  I  loved  you — 
and  in  proportion  to  my  love,  so  is  the  greatness  of  my 
wrongs !  " 

She  listened — she  advanced  a  little  toward  me — a  faint 
smile  dawned  on  her  pallid  lips — she  whispered  : 

"Fabio!  Fabio  ! " 

I  looked  at  her — unconsciously  my  voice  dropped  into  a 
cadence  of  intense  melancholy  softened  by  tenderness. 

"  Ay — Fabio  !  What  wouldst  thou  with  a  ghost  of  him  ? 
Does  it  not  seem  strange  to  thee — that  hated  name  ? — thou, 
Nina,  whom  I  loved  as  few  men  love  women — thou  whogavest 
me  no  love  at  all — thou,  who  hast  broken  my  heart  and 
made  me  what  I  am  !  " 

A  hard,  heavy  sob  rose  in  my  throat  and  choked  my  utter- 
ance. I  was  young ;  and  the  cruel  waste  and  destruction  of 
my  life  seemed  at  that  moment  more  than  I  could  bear. 
She  heard  me,  and  the  smile  brightened  more  warmly  on 
her  countenance.  She  came  close  to  me — half  timidly  yet 
coaxingly  she  threw  one  arm  about  my  neck — her  bosom 
heaved  quickly. 

"  Fabio,"  she  murmured — "  Fabio,  forgive  rne  !  I  spoke 
in  haste — I  do  not  hate  thee  !  Come  !  I  will  make  amends 
for  all  thy  suffering — I  will  love  thee — I  will  be  true  to  thee, 
I  will  be  all  thine  !  See  !  thou  knowest  I  have  not  lost  my 
beauty  !  " 

And  she  clung  to  me  with  passion,  raising  her  lips  to  mine, 
while  with  her  large  inquiring  eyes  she  searched  my  face  for 
the  reply  to  her  words.  I  gazed  down  upon  her  with  sorrow- 
ful sternness. 

"  Beauty  ?  Mere  food  for  worms — I  care  not  for  it !  Of 
what  avail  is  a  fair  body  tenanted  by  a  fiendish  soul  ?  For- 
giveness ? — you  ask  too  late  !  A  wrong  like  mine  can  never 
be  forgiven." 

There  ensued  a  silence.  She  still  embraced  me,  but  her 
eyes  roved  over  me  as  though  she  searched  for  some  lost 
thing.  The  wind  tore  furiously  among  the  branches  of  the 
cypresses  outside,  and  screamed  through  the  small  holes  and 
crannies  of  the  stone-work,  rattling  the  iron  gate  at  the  sum- 
mit of  the  stairway  with  a  clanking  sound,  as  though  the 
famous  brigand  chief  had  escaped  with  all  his  chains'  upon 
him,  and  were  clamoring  for  admittance  to  recover  his  buried 


334  VENDETTA! 

property.  Suddenly  her  face  lightened  with  an  expression 
of  cunning  intensity — and  before  I  could  preceive  her  intent 
— with  swift  agility  she  snatched  from  my  vest  the  dagger  I 
carried ! 

"  Too  late  ! '  she  cried,  with  a  wild  laugh.  "  No  ;  not  too 
late  !  Die— wretch  !  " 

For  one  second  the  bright  steel  flashed  in  the  wavering 
light  as  she  poised  it  in  act  to  strike — the  next,  I  had  caught 
her  murderous  hand  and  forced  it  down,  and  was  struggling 
with  her  for  the  mastery  of  the  weapon.  She  held  it  with  a 
desperate  grip — she  fought  with  me  breathlessly,  clinging  to  me 
with  all  her  force — she  reminded  me  of  that  ravenous  unclean 
bird  with  which  I  had  had  so  fierce  a  combat  on  the  night  of 
my  living  burial.  For  some  brief  moments  she  was  possessed 
of  supernatural  strength — she  sprung  and  tore  at  my  clothes, 
keeping  the  poniard  fast  in  her  clutch.  At  last  I  thrust  her 
down,  panting  and  exhausted,  with  fury  flashing  in  her  eyes 
— I  wrenched  the  steel  from  her  hand  and  brandished  it  above 
her. 

"  Who  talks  of  murder  now  ?  "  I  cried,  in  bitter  derision. 
"  Oh,  what  a  joy  you  have  lost !  What  triumph  for  you, 
could  you  have  stabbed  me  to  the  heart  and  left  me  here 
dead  indeed !  What  a  new  career  of  lies  would  have  been 
yours !  How  sweetly  you  would  have  said  your  prayers  with 
the  stain  of  my  blood  upon  your  soul !  Ay  !  you  would  have 
fooled  the  world  to  the  end,  and  died  in  the  odor  of  sanctity 
And  you  dared  to  ask  my  forgiveness " 

I  stopped  short — a  strange,  bewildered  expression  suddenly 
passed  over  her  face — she  looked  about  her  in  a  dazed,  vague 
way — then  her  gaze  became  suddenly  fixed,  and  she  pointed 
toward  a  dark  corner  and  shuddered. 

"  Hush — hush  !  "  she  said,  in  a  low,  terrified  whisper. 
"  Look  !  how  still  he  stands  !  how  pale  he  seems  !  Do  not 
speak — do  not  move — hush !  he  must  not  hear  your  voice — 

I  will  go  to  him  and  tell  him  all — all "     She  rose  and 

stretched  out  her  arms  with  a  gesture  of  entreaty : 

"Guido!  Guido!" 

With  a  sudden  chilled  awe  at  my  heart  I  looked  toward 
the  spot  that  thus  riveted  her  attention — all  was  shrouded  in 
deep  gloom.  She  caught  my  arm. 

"  Kill  him  !  "  she  whispered,  fiercely — "  kill  him,  and 
then  I  will  love  you  !  Ah  ! "  and  with  an  exclamation  of 
fear  she  began  to  retire  swiftly  backward  as  though  confront 
ed  by  some  threatening  figure.  "  He  is  coming — nearer  1 


VENDETTA!  335 

No,  no,  Guido !  You  shall  not  touch  me — you  dare  not — • 
Fabio  is  dead  and  I  am  free — free  !  "  She  paused — her  wild 
eyes  gazed  upward — did  she  see  some  horror  there  ?  She 
put  up  both  hands  as  though  to  shield  herself  from  some  im- 
pending blow,  and  uttering  a  loud  cry  she  fell  prone  on  the 
stone  floor  insensible.  Or  dead  ?  I  balanced  this  question 
indifferently,  as  I  looked  down  upon  her  inanimate  form. 
The  flavor  of  vengeance  was  hot  in  my  mouth,  and  filled  me 
with  delirious  satisfaction.  True,  I  had  been  glad,  when  my 
bullet  whizzing  sharply  through  the  air  had  carried  death  to 
Guido,  but  my  gladness  had  been  mingled  with  ruthfulness 
and  regret.  Now,  not  one  throb  of  pity  stirred  me — not  the 
faintest  emotion  of  tenderness.  Ferrari's  sin  was  great,  but 
she  tempted  him — her  crime  outweighed  his.  And  now — 
there  she  lay  white  and  silent — in  a  swoon  that  was  like 
death — that  might  be  death  for  aught  I  knew — or  cared! 
Had  her  lover's  ghost  indeed  appeared  before  the  eyes  of 
her  guilty  conscience  ?  I  did  not  doubt  it — I  should  scarcely 
have  been  startled  had  I  seen  the  poor  pale  shadow  of  him 
by  my  side,  as  I  musingly  gazed  upon  the  fair  fallen  body 
of  the  traitress  who  had  wantonly  wrecked  both  our  lives. 

"  Ay,  Guido,"  I  muttered,  half  aloud—"  dost  see  the 
jrork  ?  Thou  art  avenged,  frail  spirit — avenged  as  well  as  I 
—part  thou  in  peace  from  earth  and  its  inhabitants  ! — haply 
thou  shalt  cleanse  in  pure  fire  the  sins  of  thy  lower  nature, 
and  win  a  final  pardon  ;  but  for  her — is  hell  itself  black 
enough  to  match  her  soul  ?  " 

And  I  slowly  moved  toward  the  stairway ;  it  was  time,  I 
thought,  with  a  grim  resolve — to  leave  her  /  Possibly  she  was 
dead — if  not — why  then  she  soon  would  be!  I  paused  ir- 
resolute— the  wild  wind  battered  ceaselessly  at  the  iron  gate- 
way, and  wailed  as  though  with  a  hundred  voices  of  aerial 
creatures,  lamenting.  The  torches  were  burning  low,  the 
darkness  of  the  vault  deepened.  Its  gloom  concerned  me 
little — I  had  grown  familiar  with  its  unsightly  things,  its 
crawling  spiders,  its  strange  uncouth  beetles,  the  clusters  of 
blue  fungi  on  its  damp  walls.  The  scurrying  noises  made 
by  bats  and  owls,  who,  scared  by  the  lighted  candles,  were 
hiding  themselves  in  holes  and  corners  of  refuge,  startled 
me  not  at  all — I  was  well  accustomed  to  such  sounds.  In 
my  then  state  of  mind,  an  emperor's  palace  were  less  fair  to 
me  than  this  brave  charnel  house — this  stone-mouthed  wit- 
ness of  my  struggle  back  to  life  and  all  life's  misery.  The 
deep-toned  bell  outside  the  cemetery  struck  One  /  We  had 


336 

been  absent  nearly  two  hours  from  the  brilliant  assemblage 
left  at  the  hotel.  No  doubt  we  were  being  searched  for 
everywhere — it  mattered  not !  they  would  not  come  to  seek 
us  here.  I  went  on  resolutely  toward  the  stair — as  I  placed 
my  foot  on  the  firm  step  of  the  ascent,  my  wife  stirred  from 
her  recumbent  position — her  swoon  had  passed.  She  did  not 
perceive  me  where  I  stood,  ready  to  depart — she  murmured 
something  to  herself  in  a  low  voice,  and  taking  in  her  hand 
the  falling  tresses  of  her  own  hair  she  seemed  to  admire  its 
color  and  texture,  for  she  stroked  it  and  restroked  it  and 
finally  broke  into  a  gay  laugh — a  laugh  so  out  of  all  keeping 
with  her  surroundings,  that  it  startled  me  more  than  her  at- 
tempt to  murder  me. 

She  presently  stood  up  with  all  her  own  lily-like  grace 
and  fairy  majesty;  and  smiling  as  though  she  were  a  pleased 
child,  she  began  to  arrange  her  disordered  dress  with  elab- 
orate care.  I  paused  wonderingly  and  watched  her.  She 
went  to  the  brigand's  chest  of  treasure  and  proceeded  to  ex- 
amine its  contents — laces,  silver  and  gold  embroideries,  an- 
tique ornaments,  she  took  carefully  in  her  hands,  seeming 
mentally  to  calculate  their  cost  and  value.  Jewels  that  were 
set  as  necklaces,  bracelets  and  other  trinkets  of  feminine 
wear  she  put  on,  one  after  the  other,  till  her  neck  and  arms 
were  loaded — and  literally  blazed  with  the  myriad  scintilla- 
tions of  different-colored  gems.  I  marveled  at  her  strange 
conduct,  but  did  not  as  yet  guess  its  meaning.  I  moved 
away  from  the  staircase  and  drew  imperceptibly  nearer  to 
her —  Hark  !  what  was  that  ?  A  strange,  low  rumbling  like 
a  distant  earthquake,  followed  by  a  sharp  cracking  sound ; 
I  stopped  to  listen  attentively.  A  furious  gust  of  wind 
rushed  round  the  mausoleum  shrieking  wildly  like  some 
devil  in  anger,  and  the  strong  draught  flying  through  the 
gateway  extinguished  two  of  the  flaring  candles.  My  wife, 
entirely  absorbed  in  counting  over  Carmelo  Neri's  treasures, 
apparently  saw  and  heard  nothing.  Suddenly  she  broke  into 
another  laugh — a  chuckling,  mirthless  laugh  such  as  might 
come  from  the  lips  of  the  aged  and  senile.  The  sound 
curdled  the  blood  in  my  veins — it  was  the  laugh  of  a  mad- 
woman !  With  an  earnest,  distinct  voice  I  called  to  her : 

"Nina!  Nina!" 

She  turned  toward  me  still  smiling — her  eyes  were  bright, 
her  face  had  regained  its  habitual  color,  and  as  she  stood  in 
the  dim  light,  with  her  rieh  tresses  falling  about  her,  and  the 
clustering  gems  massed  together  in  a  glittering  fire  against 


VENDETTA  ! 


337 


her  white  skin,  she  looked  unnaturally,  wildly  beautiful. 
She  nodded  to  me,  half  graciously,  half  haughtily,  but  gave 
me  no  answer.  Moved  with  quick  pity  I  called  again  : 

"  Nina !  " 

She  laughed  again — the  same  terrible  laugh. 

*'  SI,  si  f  Sen'  bella,  son'  bellissima ! "  she  murmured. 
"  E  iu,  Guido  mio  ?  Tu  m'ami  ?  " 

Then  raising  one  hand  as  though  commanding  attention, 
she  cried : 

"  Ascolta  /  "  and  began  to  sing  clearly  though  feebly : 

"  Ti  saluto,  Rosignuolo  ! 
Net  tuo  duolo — ti  saluto  ! 
Sei  Famante  della  rosa 
Che  morendo  si/a  sposa  !  w 

As  the  old  familiar  melody  echoed  through  the  dreary 
vault,  my  bitter  wrath  against  her  partially  lessened ;  with 
the  swiftness  of  my  southern  temperament  a  certain  compas- 
sion stirred  my  soul.  She  was  no  longer  quite  the  same 
woman  who  had  wronged  and  betrayed  me — she  had  the 
helplessness  and  fearful  innocence  of  madness — in  that  con- 
dition I  could  not  have  hurt  a  hair  of  her  head.  I  stepped 
hastily  forward — I  resolved  to  take  her  out  of  the  vault — 
after  all  I  would  not  leave  her  thus — but  as  I  approached, 
she  withdrew  from  me,  and  with  an  angry  stamp  of  her  foot 
motioned  me  backward,  while  a  dark  frown  knitted  her  fair 
brows. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  she  cried,  imperiously.  "  You  are  dead, 
quite  dead  !  How  dare  you  come  out  of  your  grave !  " 

And  she  stared  at  me  defiantly — then  suddenly  clasping 
her  hands  as  though  in  ecstasy,  and  seeming  to  address  some 
invisible  being  at  her  side,  she  said,  in  low,  delighted  tones  : 

"  He  is  dead,  Guido  !  Are  you  not  glad  ?  "  She  paused, 
apparently  expecting  some  reply,  for  she  looked  about  her 

wonderingly,  and  continued "  You  did  not  answer  me — 

are  you  afraid  ?  Why  are  you  so  pale  and  stern  ?  Have 
you  just  come  back  from  Rome  ?  What  have  you  heard  ? 

That  I  am  false  ? — oh,  no  !  I  will  love  you  still Ah  !  I 

forgot !  you  also  are  dead,  Guido !  I  remember  now — you 
cannot  hurt  me  any  more — I  am  free — and  quite  happy  !  " 

Smiling,  she  continued  her  song : 

*  Ti  saluto,  Sol  di  Maggio 
Col  two  raggio  ti  saluto  I 
Sei  ?  Apollo  del  passato 
S*i  r  amore  incoronatot* 


338  VENDETTA  I 

Again — again  ! — that  hollow  rumbling  and  crackling  sound 
overhead.  What  could  it  be  ? 

"  L'amore  incoronato ! "  hummed  Nina  fitfully,  as  she 
plunged  her  round,  jeweled  arm  down  again  into  the  chest 
of  treasure.  "  S\,  s\  /  Che  morendo  si  fa  sposa — che  morendo 
si  fa  sposa — ah  !  " 

This  last  was  an  exclamation  of  pleasure ;  she  had  found 
some  toy  that  charmed  her — it  was  the  old  mirror  set  in  its 
frame  of  pearls.  The  possession  of  this  object  seemed  to  fill 
her  with  extraordinary  joy,  and  she  evidently  retained  no  con- 
sciousness of  where  she  was,  for  she  sat  down  on  the  up- 
turned coffin,  which  had  held  my  living  body,  with  absolute 
indifference.  Still  singing  softly  to  herself,  she  gazed  lov- 
ingly at  her  own  reflection,  and  fingered  the  jewels  she  wore, 
arranging  and  rearranging  them  in  various  patterns  with  one 
hand,  while  in  the  other  she  raised  the  looking-glass  in  the 
flare  of  the  candles  which  lighted  up  its  quaint  setting.  A 
strange  and  awful  picture  she  made  there — gazing  with  such 
lingering  tenderness  on  the  portrait  of  her  own  beauty — 
while  surrounded  by  the  moldering  coffins  that  silently  an- 
nounced how  little  such  beauty  was  worth — playing  with 
jewels,  the  foolish  trinkets  of  life,  in  the  abode  of  skeletons, 
where  the  password  is  death  !  Thinking  thus,  I  gazed  at 
her,  as  one  might  gaze  at  a  dead  body — not  loathingly  any 
more,  but  only  mournfully.  My  vengeance  was  satiated. 
I  could  not  wage  war  against  this  vacantly  smiling  mad 
creature,  out  of  whom  the  spirit  of  a  devilish  intelligence 
and  cunning  had  been  torn,  and  who  therefore  was  no  longer 
the  same  woman.  Her  loss  of  wit  should  compensate  for 
my  loss  of  love.  I  determined  to  try  and  attract  her  atten< 
tion  again.  I  opened  my  lips  to  speak — but  before  the 
words  could  form  themselves,  that  odd  rumbling  noise  again 
broke  on  my  ears — this  time  with  a  loud  reverberation  that 
rolled  overhead  like  the  thunder  of  artillery.  Before  I  could 
imagine  the  reason  of  it — before  I  could  advance  one  step 
toward  my  wife,  who  still  sat  on  the  upturned  coffin,  smiling 
at  herself  in  the  mirror — before  I  could  utter  a  word  or  move 
an  inch,  a  tremendous  crash  resounded  through  the  vault, 
followed  by  a  stinging  shower  of  stones,  dust,  and  pulverized 
mortar  !  I  stepped  backward  amazed,  bewildered — speech- 
less— instinctively  shutting  my  eyes — when  I  opened  them 
again  all  was  darkness — all  was  silence  !  Only  the  wind 
howled  outside  more  frantically  than  ever — a  sweeping  gust 
whirled  through  the  vault,  blowing  some  dead  leaves  against 


VENDETTA  !  339 

my  face,  and  I  heard  the  boughs  of  trees  creaking  noisily  in 
the  fury  of  the  storm.  Hush  ! — was  that  a  faint  moan  ?  Quiv- 
ering in  every  limb,  and  sick  with  a  nameless  dread,  I  sought 
in  my  pocket  for  matches — I  found  them.  Then  with  an 
effort,  mastering  the  shuddering  revulsion  of  my  nerves,  I 
struck  a  light.  The  flame  was  so  dim  that  for  an  instant  I 
could  see  nothing.  I  called  loudly  : 

"  Nina !  "     There  was  no  answer. 

One  of  the  extinguished  candles  was  near  me ;  I  lighted 
it  with  trembling  hands  and  held  it  aloft — then  I  uttered  a 
wild  shriek  of  horror  !  Oh,  God  of  inexorable  justice,  surely 
Thy  vengeance  was  greater  than  mine  !  An  enormous  block 
of  stone,  dislodged  by  the  violence  of  the  storm,  had  fallen 
from  the  roof  of  the  vault ;  fallen  sheer  down  over  the  very 
place  where  she  had  sat  a  minute  or  two  before,  fantastically 
smiling  !  Crushed  under  the  huge  mass — crushed  into  the 
very  splinters  of  my  own  empty  coffin,  she  lay — and  yet — 
and  yet — I  could  see  nothing,  save  one  white  hand  protrud- 
ing— the  hand  on  which  the  marriage-ring  glittered  mock- 
ingly !  Even  as  I  looked,  that  hand  quivered  violently — beat 
the  ground — and  then — was  still !  It  was  horrible.  In 
dreams  I  see  that  quivering  white  hand  now,  the  jewels  on 
it  sparkling  with  derisive  luster.  It  appeals,  it  calls,  it  threat- 
ens, it  prays !  and  when  my  time  comes  to  die,  it  will  beckon 
me  to  my  grave  !  A  portion  of  her  costly  dress  was  visible — 
my  eyes  lighted  on  this — and  I  saw  a  slow  stream  of  blood 
oozing  thickly  from  beneath  the  stone — the  ponderous  stone 
that  no  man  could  have  moved  an  inch — the  stone  that  sealed 
her  awful  sepulcher  !  Great  Heaven !  how  fast  the  crimson 
stream  of  life  trickled  ! — staining  the  snowy  lace  of  her  gar- 
ment with  a  dark  and  dreadful  hue  !  Staggering  feebly  like 
a  drunken  man — half  delirious  with  anguish — I  approached 
and  touched  that  small  white  hand  that  lay  stiffly  on  the 
ground — I  bent  my  head — I  almost  kissed  it,  but  some 
strange  revulsion  rose  in  my  soul  and  forbade  the  act ! 

In  a  stupor  of  dull  agony  I  sought  and  found  the  crucifix 
of  the  monk  Cipriano  that  had  fallen  to  the  floor — I  closed 
the  yet  warm  finger-tips  around  it  and  left  it  thus ;  an  un- 
natural, terrible  calmness  froze  the  excitement  of  my  strained 
nerves. 

"  'Tis  all  I  can  do  for  thee  ! "  I  muttered,  incoherently. 
"  May  Christ  forgive  thee,  though  I  cannot !  " 

And  covering  my  eyes  to  shut  out  the  sight  before  me  I 
turned  away.  I  hurried  in  a  sort  of  frenzy  toward  the  stair* 


340  VENDETTA  / 

way — on  reaching  the  lowest  step  I  extinguished  the  torch  I 
carried.  Some  impulse  made  me  glance  back — and  I  saw 
what  I  see  now — what  I  shall  always  see  till  I  die  !  An  aper- 
ture had  been  made  through  the  roof  of  the  vault  by  the  fall 
of  the  great  stone,  and  through  this  the  fitful  moon  poured 
down  a  long  ghostly  ray.  The  green  glimmer,  like  a  spectral 
lamp,  deepened  the  surrounding  darkness,  only  showing  up 
with  fell  distinctness  one  object — that  slender  protruding 
wrist  and  hand,  whiter  than  Alpine  snow  !  I  gazed  at  it 
wildly — the  gleam  of  the  jewels  down  there  hurt  my  eyes— 
the  shine  of  the  silver  crucifix  clasped  in  those  little  waxen 
fingers  dazzled  my  brain — and  with  a  frantic  cry  of  unreason- 
ing terror,  I  rushed  up  the  steps  with  a  maniac  speed- 
opened  the  iron  gate  through  which  she  would  pass  no  more, 
and  stood  at  liberty  in  the  free  air,  face  to  face  with  a  wind 
as  tempestuous  as  my  own  passions.  With  what  furious 
haste  I  shut  the  entrance  to  the  vault !  with  what  fierce  pre- 
caution I  locked  and  doubled-locked  it !  Nay,  so  little  did 
I  realize  that  she  was  actually  dead,  that  I  caught  myself 
saying  aloud — "  Safe — safe  at  last !  She  cannot  escape — I 
have  closed  the  secret  passage — no  one  will  hear  her  cries — 
she  will  struggle  a  little,  but  it  will  soon  be  over — she  will 
never  laugh  any  more — never  kiss — never  love — never  tell 
lies  for  the  fooling  of  men  ! — she  is  buried  as  I  was — buried 
alive  !  " 

Muttering  thus  to  myself  with  a  sort  of  sobbing  incoher- 
ence, I  turned  to  meet  the  snarl  of  the  savage  blast  of  the 
night,  with  my  brain  reeling,  my  limbs  weak  and  trembling 
— with  the  heavens  and  earth  rocking  before  me  like  a  wild 
sea — with  the  flying  moon  staring  aghast  through  the  driv- 
ing clouds — with  all  the  universe,  as  it  were,  in  a  broken  and 
shapeless  chaos  about  me ;  even  so  I  went  forth  to  meet  my 
fate — and  left  her  ! 

******* 

Unrecognized,  untracked,  I  departed  from  Naples.  Wrapped 
in  my  cloak,  and  stretched  in  a  sort  of  heavy  stupor  on  the 
deck  of  the  "  Rondinella,"  my  appearance  apparently  ex- 
cited no  suspicion  in  the  mind  of  the  skipper,  old  Antonio 
Bardi,  with  whom  my  friend  Andrea  had  made  terms  for  my 
voyage,  little  aware  of  the  real  identity  of  the  passenger  he 
recommended. 

The  morning  was  radiantly  beautiful — the  sparkling  waves 
rose  high  on  tiptoe  to  kiss  the  still  boisterous  wind — the  sun- 
light broke  in  a  wide  smile  of  springtide  glory  over  th<? 


VENDETTA  f  341 

world !  With  the  burden  of  my  agony  upon  me — with  the 
utter  exhaustion  of  my  overwrought  nerves,  I  beheld  all 
things  as  in  a  feverish  dream — the  laughing  light,  the  azure 
ripple  of  waters — the  receding  line  of  my  native  shores — 
everything  was  blurred,  indistinct,  and  unreal  to  me,  though 
my  soul,  Argus-eyed,  incessantly  peered  down,  down  into 
those  darksome  depths  where  she  lay,  silent  forever.  For 
now  I  knew  she  was  dead.  Fate  had  killed  her — not  I.  All 
unrepentant  as  she  was,  triumphing  in  her  treachery  to  the 
last,  even  in  her  madness,  still  I  would  have  saved  her,  though 
she  strove  to  murder  me. 

Yet  it  was  well  the  stone  had  fallen — who  knows! — if  she 
had  lived — I  strove  not  to  think  of  her,  and  drawing  the  key 
of  the  vault  from  my  pocket,  I  let  it  drop  with  a  sudden 
splash  into  the  waves.  All  was  over — no  one  pursued  me — 
no  one  inquired  whither  I  went.  I  arrived  at  Civita  Vecchia 
unquestioned;  from  thence  I  travelled  to  Leghorn,  where  I 
embarked  on  board  a  merchant  trading  vessel  bound  for 
South  America.  Thus  I  lost  myself  to  the  world ;  thus  I  be- 
came, as  it  were,  buried  alive  for  the  second  time.  I  am 
safely  sepulchered  in  these  wild  woods,  and  I  seek  no  escape. 

Wearing  the  guise  of  a  rough  settler,  one  who  works  in  com- 
mon with  others,  hewing  down  tough  parasites  and  poisonous 
undergrowths  in  order  to  effect  a  clearing  through  these  path- 
less solitudes,  none  can  trace  in  the  strong  stern  man,  with 
the  care-worn  face  and  white  hair,  any  resemblance  to  the 
once  popular  and  wealthy  Count  Oliva,  whose  disappearance, 
so  strange  and  sudden,  was  for  a  time  the  talk  of  all  Italy. 
For,  on  one  occasion  when  visiting  the  nearest  town,  I  saw 
an  article  in  a  newspaper,  headed  "  Mysterious  Occurrence  in 
Naples,"  and  I  read  every  word  of  it  with  a  sensation  of  dull 
amusement. 

From  it  I  learned  that  the  Count  Oliva  was  advertised  for. 
His  abrupt  departure,  together  with  that  of  his  newly  married 
wife,  formerly  Contessa  Romani,  on  the  very  night  of  their 
wedding,  had  created  the  utmost  excitement  in  the  city. 
The  landlord  of  the  hotel  where  he  stayed  was  prosecuting 
inquiries — so  was  the  count's  former  valet,  one  Vincenzo 
Flamma.  Any  information  would  be  gratefully  received  by 
the  police  authorities.  If  within  twelve  months  no  news  were 
obtained,  the  iuimense  properties  of  the  Romani  family,  in 
default  of  existing  kindred,  would  be  handed  over  to  the 
crown. 

There  was  much  more  to  the  same  effect,  and  I  read  it  with 


342  VENDETTA  ! 

the  utmost  indifference.  Why  do  they  not  search  the  Romani 
vault  ? — I  thought  gloomily — they  would  find  some  authentic 
information  there  !  But  I  know  the  Neapolitans  well ;  they 
are  timorous  and  superstitious  ;  they  would  as  soon  hug  a  pes- 
tilence as  explore  a  charnel  house.  One  thing  gladdened  me  ; 
it  was  the  projected  disposal  of  my  fortune.  The  crown,  the 
Kingdom  of  Italy,  was  surely  as  noble  an  heir  as  a  man  could 
have  !  I  returned  to  my  woodland  hut  with  a  strange  peace 
on  my  soul. 

As  I  told  you  at  first,  I  am  a  dead  man — the  world,  with  its 
busy  life  and  aims,  has  naught  to  do  with  me.  The  tall  trees, 
the  birds,  the  whispering  grasses  are  my  friends  and  my  com- 
panions— they,  and  they  only,  are  sometimes  the  silent  wit- 
nesses of  the  torturing  fits  of  agony  that  every  now  and  then 
overwhelm  me  with  bitterness.  For  I  suffer  always.  That  is 
natural.  Revenge  is  sweet ! — but  who  shall  paint  the  horrors 
of  memory  ?  My  vengeance  now  recoils  upon  my  own  head. 
I  do  not  complain  of  this — it  is  the  law  of  compensation — it  is 
just.  I  blame  no  one — save  Her,  the  woman  who  wrought  my 
wrong.  Dead  as  she  is  I  do  not  forgive  her  ;  I  have  tried  to, 
but  I  cannot !  Do  men  ever  truly  forgive  the  women  who 
ruin  their  lives  ?  I  doubt  it.  As  for  me,  I  feel  that  the  end  is 
not  yet — that  when  my  soul  is  released  from  its  earthly 
prison,  I  shall  still  be  doomed  in  some  drear  dim  way  to 
pursue  her  treacherous  flitting  spirit  over  the  black  chasms  of 
a  hell  darker  than  Dante's — she  in  the  likeness  of  a  wander- 
ing flame — I  as  her  haunting  shadow  ;  she,  flying  before  me 
in  coward  fear — I,  hasting  after  her  in  relentless  wrath — and 
this  forever  and  ever ! 

But  I  ask  no  pity — I  need  none.  I  punished  the  guilty, 
and  in  doing  so  suffered  more  than  they — that  is  as  it  must 
always  be.  I  have  no  regret  and  no  remorse  ;  only  one  thing 
troubles  me — one  little  thing — a  mere  foolish  fancy  !  It 
comes  upon  me  in  the  night,  when  the  large-faced  moon  looks 
at  me  from  heaven.  For  the  moon  is  grand  in  this  climate  ; 
she  is  like  a  golden-robed  empress  of  all  the  worlds  as  she 
sweeps  in  lustrous  magnificence  through  the  dense  violet 
skies.  I  shut  out  her  radiance  as  much  as  I  can  ;  I  close  the 
blind  at  the  narrow  window  of  my  solitary  forest  cabin  ;  and  yet 
do  what  I  will,  one  wide  ray  creeps  in  always — one  ray  that 
eludes  all  my  efforts  to  expel  it.  Under  the  door  it  comes, 
or  through  some  unguessed  cranny  in  the  wood-work.  I  have 
in  vain  tried  to  find  the  place  of  its  entrance. 

The  color  of  the  moonlight  in  this  climate  is  of  a  mellovy 


VENDETTA!  343 

amber — so  I  cannot  understand  why  that  pallid  ray  that 
visits  me  so  often,  should  be  green — a  livid,  cold,  watery 
green ;  and  in  it,  like  a  lily  in  an  emerald  pool,  I  see  a  little 
white  hand  on  which  the  jewels  cluster  thick  like  drops  of 
dew  !  The  hand  moves — it  lifts  itself — the  small  fingers 
point  at  me  threateningly — they  quiver — and  then — they 
beckon  me  slowly,  solemnly,  commandingly  onward  ! — on- 
ward ! — to  some  infinite  land  of  awful  mysteries  where  Light 
and  Love  shall  dawn  for  me  no  more 


THE  END. 


Tin; 


1 49 1 1 


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